


Take Me Home

by Bruckyx90



Series: The Soldier's Angel [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Also Original Character Takes a Lot of Hits, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, BAMF Bucky Barnes, BAMF Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Canon Compliant, Clint Barton & Natasha Romanov Friendship, Deaf Clint Barton, Hurt/Comfort, Multi, Original Character Takes No Ones Shit, Original Character(s), Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Protective Bucky Barnes, Protective Steve Rogers, Rape Aftermath, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sam Wilson Is a Good Bro, Sharing a Bed, Slice of Life, Slow Burn, Torture, sort of ???
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-01
Updated: 2019-02-25
Packaged: 2019-10-02 02:15:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 97,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17255732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bruckyx90/pseuds/Bruckyx90
Summary: Mercedes “Mercy” Nilsen did not need any more complications in her life, thank you very much. As the reigning sovereign to the 10th Realm’s Fallen Angels, her days are spent coordinating between semi-hostile clans all vying for her favor with psychopathic intensity, attempting to juggle two dozen personal responsibilities owed to the greater forces of the universe, and subtly helping her best friend, Agent Sharon Carter, navigate the shadows of S.H.I.E.L.D.’s career ladder. Unfortunately, Fate hasn’t gotten the memo and so dumps a confused, vulnerable Winter Soldier in her lap shortly after HYDRA's very public drowning in the Potomac River.Mercy’s unique abilities and experience with her mercenary people means she’s more than qualified to handle his volatile outbursts with minimal collateral damage. Not to mention she might finally learn to live for something other than her duties. However nothing good every comes without sacrifice. Only by cooperating together with the freshly woken James “Bucky” Barnes will Mercy have a chance of salvaging their new life as they try to build it together.The catch will be if the strengths they both have hidden inside will break their enemies or each other first...





	1. Prologue: The Soldier Awakens

**Author's Note:**

> Hello All!
> 
> So this is my first published work and I can't tell you how excited/freaked out I am by it. Also I am super new to the community, so I have no beta reader and all mistakes are mine alone. I've loved the Marvel Universe for practically ever and tried to do proper research on the inspirations for this piece. But I will be the first to warn you that artistic license has been taken. A lot. Get used to it now. With any luck I should be able to post about once a week or so.
> 
> So without any further ado, here is the first of (hopefully!) many chapters to come!

The Asset tumbled through the air, irritation simmering beneath the placid surface of its mind as it converted its momentum into a controlled roll that brought it back to its feet with only the smallest of stumbles. It could still feel the heavy muzzle’s presence lingering against the sensitive skin around its mouth, though the cool breeze whispering along its chapped lips contradicted the sensation oddly. Judging by the target’s grip before he threw it, the Asset was willing to bet the force had ripped the damn thing off. Unease wormed its way through the Asset’s growing irritation like a maggot through a rotting corpse. Failure was never an option and the taste of it set off every single one of the Asset's muted warning signals.

It had been years since any target had the put up this much of a fight. The mission should have been completed by now. The Asset’s handlers would be… displeased… by its poor performance. The stubble along its strong jaw rippled as the muscles flexed at the instinctive flinch that thought loosed. It needed to focus now. Bury the sick twist of its guts as fuzzy memories from previous corrective disciplines clawed their way past the suffocating haze in its mind. The haze would only get worse, it knew, after the handlers had administered the appropriate modifications to its functions. They’d put the Asset in the chair again. The haze consumed everything but the Asset’s basic functions after it was put in the chair.

Turning back to the fight at hand, the Asset eyed its target balefully, bland expression giving away nothing of its shrewd inspection. The other man would be intimidating to a less seasoned fighter, all thick muscle and inhuman reflexes. Blond hair trimmed too short to offer a proper grip in a fight. Worn street clothes that concealed no weapons and revealed the minor wounds their brawl had collected were as nondescript as you could get. The Asset approved on a purely professional level. The only disconcerting thing to the Asset was the startled intensity his target stared at it with. The aggression and fear had been replaced by wonder. And just maybe the slightest hint of confused horror.

“Bucky…?”

The name rang between them like a gunshot, its intensity belied by the soft voice that uttered it. A jolt went through the Asset and for a moment it could not breathe. A distant memory screamed in the back of its mind, an answering name thrashing wildly against the thick fog that made reaching those memories so goddamned hard. The Asset knew this man. Knew him like it knew the taste of lightening as it streaked through the Asset’s mind, searing its flesh and bringing to bare the pungent scents of urine, pain, and despair. Like the Asset knew bone-shattering nothingness that came with the ice that was the only peace waiting for it once it completed its mission. The knowing was a certainty that transcended its actual memories. But why would the target call the Asset by that name?

“Who the hell is Bucky?” demanded the Asset before it could stop itself. Another malfunction. Its handlers would be furious the Asset spoke to the target. And in English no less. This mistake went against some of the most basic functions the Asset’s first handlers had programed into it.

_The Asset is to be silent at all times, unless expressly ordered otherwise._

_The Asset is to comply_ immediately _and_ completely _with all mission parameters._

Verbally engaging the target was not in the mission parameters.

The Asset pushed its confusion aside and lifted the ready handgun to take aim at its target. Its handlers’ voices assaulted its mind, their orders rattling around like bullets ricocheting off concrete walls. The mission needed to be completed. Nothing mattered but the mission.

It bothered the Asset more than it could say when the target didn’t even raise the garish red, white, and blue circular shield clutched in his left hand to guard against the shot.

A sudden kick slammed into the Asset’s right shoulder from behind, sending it flying across the asphalt once more as the roar of a small jet engine assaulted its ears. How in the hell had it missed that? The attacker landed with an awkward stumble, a lean black man who moved much like the target and was dressed in a similar style of clothes. The Asset concluded it was probably another soldier as it sprang back up. A fighter. A threat. Even if the mission parameters hadn’t originally included him. This at least was covered under the Asset’s primary functions.

_The Asset is to eliminate all new threats to the mission objective as they make themselves known._

Still, the Asset’s jumbled thoughts would not be quieted so easily as its gaze landed on the blond target once more and it hesitated to bring the pistol to bare again. Its conflicting instincts were so loudly at war it almost missed the sound of soft footsteps running towards it from behind.

Whirling with a snarl, the Asset clamped its metal fist around the slender neck it found there and pressed the gun’s barrel firmly between a pair of gentle, almond-shaped eyes. The woman at its mercy made no move to protest this as it slammed her back against a nearby truck. Her expression remained unruffled as her gaze flickered between it and the blond target, one hand raising just high enough to signal the target to wait where he was before her attention returned to the Asset. She was perhaps a head shorter than the Asset, her body athletic but softer and shockingly limp in its grasp. Almost as if she was completely without fear in its hands. Silver hair was bound back in a complex braid, though loose wisps danced around her pretty face, offsetting a scattering of freckles across the delicate bridge of her nose. It was her eyes that held the Asset’s undivided attention though. Crystal-like amethyst that wandered over its face, the intelligence shining from them gentling to something more concerned when they met its startled gaze. Neither spoke as a wave of peace rolled through the Asset’s mind. It felt like the early morning sun burning away a thick fog bank rolling over a wide river. Until finally, for the first time since it had been pulled from the ice, its thoughts were free of that god-awful haze.

No, not its. _His_. Soldier…he was a soldier…the Soldier…

And not the first time. He’d met this woman before. A confusing jumble of half-remembered conversations and snatches of lullabies sung in at least two different languages assaulted his mind. It was impossible for the Soldier to know when these memories took place. One thing he did remember: the haze always lifted when she was this close. A balm to the aching soul he didn’t know he had until now.

She was a target too. Or had been. The Soldier’s handlers sent him after her when the other teams failed to acquire her and she’d led him on a prolonged hunt that tested even his formidable endurance. Never escaping completely but always dancing just out of reach. Until she stopped. Stopped running and surrendered without warning to him. She hadn’t tried to fight him then either. Why wasn’t she fighting?

Didn’t she know she was in danger?

Confusion loosened the Soldier’s metal fist and he slowly let the gun drop to his side. The woman made no attempt to press her advantage. Instead she carefully raised her hands from where they had been hanging limply the whole time. Her movements were slow; as if he was some wild animal that might spook at the wrong twitch of her finger. A soft croon whispered up her throat to vibrate in the air between them. The world screeched to a halt as the Soldier trembled in distress, though from what exactly he couldn’t articulate. Even to himself. With the infinite care of someone handling a precious object, the woman cupped his face in her palms and at her gentle touch, the constant ache from past injuries the Soldier had taken as a condition of his existence faded to nothing. The Soldier couldn’t wrap his head around the new sensation. Had there ever been a time when he was without pain?

She spoke for the first time since she appeared, her voice rich with music and some unidentifiable accent.

“By the gods…what did those monsters do to you, Sergeant Barnes?”

The Soldier couldn’t force an answer past his suddenly parched throat. He knew that _name_ …

A spasm wracked the woman suddenly. Her eyes glazed over, head lulling back to smack into the rusted metal behind her. Gentle hands turned to claws as they ripped free from him and buried themselves into her mussed hair. The familiar expressions of pain and fear crossing her face shattered the Soldier’s fragile calm, engaging the Asset once more.

Voices assaulted the Asset’s mind, screaming for it to complete the mission. The haze swarmed over everything struggling to rise from the past. Without thought, the Asset sighted on the blond target one last time. Past the target a third shape, an injured woman with bright auburn hair, fired a grenade in defense of her teammate. The Asset flung itself out of range, instinctively tucking the silver-haired woman beneath it as they tumbled behind the nearest cover. A second later the explosion ripped the truck they had been standing by apart with the snarl of a wildcat. It almost hid the sound of the woman’s head connecting solidly with the asphalt as the explosion’s force sent them careening out of control. The Asset felt a moment of strangled panic (or was it the Soldier?) as the woman gasped in pain and her eyes rolled to the back of her head. Though the steady rise and fall of her chest a second later helped it—him—it smother the fear. That was good.

_The Asset is not to feel._

_The Asset is only to comply._

Laying over the top of her prone form, the Asset weighed its next move carefully. Nearby sirens meant it had mere seconds to escape before being exposed to local authorities. It could not eliminate the three targets in that amount of time. They were too well-trained. A temporary withdrawal then. It needed to report back to its handlers anyway. The fight had damaged its metal arm badly. The Asset would not be at peak efficiency without extensive repairs.

Almost without thinking the Asset rose to its feet, the silver-haired woman tucked securely in its arms as it started off at a swift jog. Something about her roused the Soldier’s long-buried protective instincts and the Asset was helpless before the wild onslaught of visceral _need_ to keep her _safe_. It was a weapon, a tool. It was not equipped to keep anyone safe. Only to destroy, to kill. Not like the Soldier who clawed his way to the very edge of the haze and grimly held on even when nothing but agony awaited him.

Cruel hope rose unbidden as the Soldier glanced down to where the unconscious woman’s face was tucked into his broad chest.

Perhaps if his handlers were feeling particularly generous once they’d administered the necessary corrective disciplines for his failure and if the Soldier completed his mission satisfactorily enough after his repairs, they might let him listen to her sing again before he was put back in the ice.


	2. Chapter 1: Fate’s Whim

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go, my lovelies! Time for some good old Asset not behaving the way they want him too! Because we all know Bucky is one beautiful BAMF and he constantly fights to be better than what they try to make him be. All comments or suggestions are welcome.
> 
> Enjoy!

**_Two Days Earlier…_ **

 

-Red or white?-

The message glared accusingly at me from my smartphone’s screen as I dragged my sore, filthy body up the basement stairs of a shabby townhouse in the less than affluent neighborhood of Brentwood. The previous occupants had turned it into an amateur dog-fighting ring and the thick, horrible scent of painful death clung to me with the stubbornness of a leech. The urge to bleach it from not only my khaki coveralls but also my assaulted flesh was entirely too tempting to be healthy. I stripped off my thick leather gloves, dropping them in the trash with the first two pairs without a thought. There was no way to clean that much suffering out of the worn leather.

-Vodka- I shot back, my fingers trembling so badly it took three tries before I got close enough for autocorrect to take over. Not even the soft lullabies floating through my wireless headphones on repeat were enough to quiet my rage. With a frustrated sigh, I paused the music and tucked it with the headphones into a pocket. The zipper had kept the inside clean enough I wouldn’t need to sterilize the electronics when I finally got home. It was a good thing animal services had come and taken what was left of the dogs back to the emergency veterinarians on call. Normally my empathetic abilities were an asset, keeping an aura of comfort and safety around me that put others instinctively at ease. Well at ease so long as my own emotions were calm enough. But after spending the day coaxing traumatized animals from the backs of cages not fit for a slaughterhouse and knowing those responsible wouldn’t see so much as a slap on the wrist when their Senator parents descended upon the nearby precinct, the growing unrest coiling through me was more likely to incite a riot. Though it wouldn’t be the first seen in the streets of Washington, DC.

A faint whistle had me glancing back at my screen instantly. -You know even the top shelf stuff can’t give you a buzz for more than three seconds. I’ve got the fixings for muffins, brownies, or cookies. Help yourself when you get over here. Laundry will be run tonight so you can dump your stuff in the basket if you want. I’ll probably be out a little longer.-

The twisted fist strangling my heart loosened a fraction, allowing me to take the first truly calm breath since I’d arrived on the scene this morning. There was something to be said for a best friend who knew you better than you knew yourself. Especially one who took the time to write properly like a normal person instead of this disjointed, lazy text speak that was growing ever more popular.

-You are a damn fine woman, Sharon Carter. No matter what anyone else says.-

-Never cared much about what anyone else ever said. But thanks, sunshine.-

I gave a soft chuckle at the pet-name and slammed the basement door shut behind me with a satisfying thunk. Had I been a hair less in control of myself, I probably would have bent the doorframe.

Sharon was only one of two people alive who could get away with a nickname so irritatingly cute. The other was her great-aunt Peggy, who I’d befriended during World War II while we passed our time sabotaging the Nazi-based think tank Ahnenerbe’s archeological digs and HYDRA’s European bases. My unique parentage meant I had a better chance of understanding magical artifacts and their consequences when I found them. There wasn’t much in the way of information about magical artifacts put on Midgard that the only daughter of the last Valkyrie general and the 10th Realm’s sovereign prince couldn’t find. Peggy’s position in the SSR and later in founding S.H.I.E.L.D. had meant the artifacts had a much better chance staying out of the wrong hands when I didn’t quite trust them to the care of my people. She had also been invaluable in hiding my disturbing lack of aging from the general public over the following decades. Especially with the steady rise of technology. Though her advanced Alzheimer's made that more difficult now. Not long after she’d started to decline, Peggy invited me over for a family dinner, where she not-so-subtly introduced me to her niece. Sharon was a fresh-faced S.H.I.E.L.D. agent at the time, full of youthful optimism and more potential than three-quarters of the academy put together. She was also a caring soul who took her duty to protect her family’s legacy quite seriously. Apparently, I’d been unofficially added to that legacy without my knowledge. It was an accomplishment I took no end of pride in.

I paused beside the slightly outdated sedan I used when in town, eyes fixed on my phone to appear as if I was reading something there. It was good camouflage to cover the fact my mind was currently occupied with more strenuous activities. One of the burdens carried by my people’s reigning sovereign was an unbreakable telepathic connection with each individual who wielded the power of an Angel and their bondmates via the magic connecting them. It was how the sovereign commanded unquestioning loyalty and control over a race that had largely been trained from birth to be the greatest hunters the ten realms had ever seen. While I might not always approve of the power it allowed me to exercise over those in my care, it had its uses. Like instant, un-hackable communication.

I reached for the brightest connection kept near my consciousness and sent a gentle pulse down it to the inquisitive mind I knew waited at the other end. Kalisha Albertson, or Kali as she liked to be called, was the youngest Sentinel in our people’s history and was quickly becoming my favorite. The daughter of a Wakanda War Dog and the previous head of my personal guard, the Sentinels, she had thrown herself into training after the tragic loss of her parents when she was barely fifteen years old. For a race that didn’t reach physical maturity until their first century, Kali was often considered a baby. It was a mistake most only made once. She’d joined the Sentinels about twenty years ago, fresh from an intensive eight decade training course and more than ready to make a name for herself. She’d won the respect of her peers quickly over her time with them and taken it upon herself to act as a first point of contact when she noticed how often I was bogged down with incidental problems during our people’s daily communication sessions. Some of the elder members weren’t happy with her perceived disrespect for how these things were traditionally handled. But they hadn’t said much since my publicly stated approval of her taking point on the issue. Unquestioning servitude was occasionally useful in circumventing tedious arguments.

 _What is your will, my lady?_

Kali’s mind was vibrant and full of life in a way that reminded me of the spice markets of the East. A little chaotic, a little dangerous, but there was nothing quite like it in all the world. Her thoughts were remarkably cheerful though, even for her normally friendly disposition. Some of my curiosity must have leaked through because a memory flickered to the fore of her mind in answer. Brightly colored fruit carved into different flower shapes. Some dipped in fine chocolate. Sweet citrus seemed to burst across my tongue and I couldn’t help smiling at the echo of her pleasure as she devoured one of the daisy shaped pineapples.

 _I see your handsome admirer is still trying to win your favor._ Our shared amusement tingled along the connection.

_He is persistent._

_Will you be rewarding that persistence?_

Hesitation crept through her mind and I was careful to shield as much of her thoughts as I could from myself. While most Angels didn’t have the capacity to understand their own right to privacy due to previous rulers’ millennia of abusive conditioning, my parents had been very specific in my education. As their ruler, it was my duty to protect them. No matter the cost. No matter who the enemy was. It was a lesson I’d taken to heart. Especially after suffering my own traumas.

_He’s a good man but…I don’t think right now is the time for a fling. Not until after…_

I accepted her decision without comment. After all, Kali was at a delicate stage in her life. Angels went through a brief period of metamorphic change when they reached physical maturity. Commonly referred to as the Fever Days or the Change, the young Angels underwent a serious of painful reconstructions to their minds and bodies. The enormous amount of energy used to fuel the change was proportionate to their level of magical ability. It caused the body to heat to dangerous levels and if not properly cared for, led to prolonged, agonizing death. It could be triggered by a number of things but the most common was simple natural progression or prolonged exposure to a viable bondmate. There were limited options to assist the young Angels enduring this transition. Sheer force of will was the traditional method of survival. As my healing abilities had grown I’d made myself available to help with the resulting agony and mental strain that characterized the Change. That had doubled the survival rate from its paltry original forty percent. The more traditional answer, before my interference, was to introduce a bondmate to the equation. Having another mind magically connected to theirs helped ease the strain of the Change but it left the Angel in a terribly vulnerable state. A bond may be initiated by the Angel but it could be terminated by the bondmate at any time. It was a devastating blow to the Angel, one few survived for any length of time. No one wanted to continue living when the reason for their existence abandoned them.

Kali’s mother had suffered this fate not long after her Wakandan War Dog lover returned to his home country. Kali was old enough to remember how her once dauntless mother shriveled in the months after his disappearance and died a shell of her former self. It made her understandably cautious who she gave her heart to.

 _Have there been any symptoms yet?_ I kept my inquiry gentle. The older an Angel was when the Change happened, the less chance they had of surviving it without assistance. Kali’s first century had passed nearly a decade ago.

Her honest response put me instantly at ease. _Nothing. I still have a few years before the situation becomes critical._

_If you should get even the slightest hint…_

_You’ll be the first to know,_ she assured me. I let the matter drop. Kali wasn’t reckless by any means of the word and honest to a fault. Besides, with as closely as we worked together I’d have plenty of opportunity to keep an eye on her myself. _Now, to what do I owe the honor?_

_Please let the local precinct know the last of the dogs have been removed from the crime scene. Nothing else has been touched but it might not be a bad idea to keep an eye on the property just in case some other idot decides to set up a meth kitchen or something equally stupid._

_I’ll alert them now. Do you want me to inquire about the investigation’s progress with our agents?_

_For as much good as it may do us._

Bitterness turned my thoughts rancid and I did my best to keep the more horrific images of the basement from leaking through to our connection. Judging by the pulse of rage I felt from my Sentinel, I was only partially successful.

 _Monsters,_ Kali snarled. _They should be skinned alive and fed their own intestines._

I felt entirely too much satisfaction at that suggestion.

_Do you want me to make arrangements? I can think of a dozen elders who would take great pleasure in carrying out your judgement on this filth._

And that right there was why governing telepathic mercenaries was so damn difficult. _As tempting as it is, I can’t just dole out judgement on people who don’t fall under my authority. That is not our way. Not_ my _way. We will wait to see what the American courts decide._

 _Those responsible will never see a single day of punishment,_ Kali said flatly. Apparently she’d been informed about the perpetrators’ identities too. _Their parents are too well-connected in this town._

I didn’t bother arguing with her further. Naive hopes couldn’t change the hard facts of the world. And there were other matters I needed to make preparations for.

_Let the others know today’s session will be later than usual. I’m going to need a …a cooling off period._

_You’re at Agent Carter’s apartment tonight, yes?_

_Yes._ Kali’s unmistakable approval amused me to no end.

_Good. She’ll make sure you actually take care of yourself instead of wallowing in misery._

_You’re awfully close to insubordination, Sentinel._

_Empress, you know as well as I do a full legion of our best warriors couldn’t out-stubborn you if their lives depended on it. At least Agent Carter can circumvent your authority when you get out of hand. Unlike the rest of us. And she has the good sense to get you what you need. Even when you won’t admit to it._

_Enough, enough._ Fond exasperation colored our connection from both ends. _I promise, it’s a full night of baking and drinking. Nothing dangerous._

Kali did nothing to hide her smug satisfaction. _Excellent. Do you want your report at the session tonight or sooner?_

_During the session will be fine. Take care, Kali._

_As my empress commands._

A familiar itch waited for me when I broke contact and my fingers reached to the wide, onyx choker that wrapped seamlessly around my throat. The sensitive pads of my fingertips traced the complex magical runes before they paused instinctively on the gold pendant nestled over my twitching Adams’ apple. My old hatred for the object mixed with the mounting frustration from the day’s events, feeding the volatile thirst at the back of my mind I knew instinctively didn’t belong solely to me. The itch grew beneath the band’s thick weight. Apparently my other half was too close to the surface for the cursed chocker’s liking. Which meant if I didn’t get myself under control soon I’d have to deal with the chocker actively making me miserable instead of just being a constant, yet ignorable, reminder of everything I hated in this universe.

Better get to Sharon’s before I actually did start that riot.

Shaking my head to clear at least part of my frustrations, I pulled an old blanket from the trunk of my nondescript car, refolding it so the holes didn’t line up and leave my driver’s seat unprotected. As terrible as their lives had been, most of the dogs I’d helped rescue today had tried their best to behave as they were traded between the volunteers for preliminary examinations. That didn’t mean their bowel movements had been one hundred percent under their control. A poor diet meant those movements were particularly noxious. And gods knew there was nothing they could do about the blood and rot matting their mange-ridden fur.

It would take at least a week’s worth of showers for me to feel remotely civilized again. Unzipping the top of my coveralls and tying them around my waist was a good start. It was extremely unnerving when I noticed the amount of blood that had soaked through to the pale salmon tank top I’d thrown on early this morning. It was a little sad how long I considered the consequences of driving naked through the city before I convinced myself to keep what I had on. Just for now. Sharon had a couple outfits stashed at her apartment just for such occasions. I could make do until then.

It was a moment’s work to send off another text to my best friend.

-On my way now. Got to make a stop first though.-

-You that serious about the liquor?-

-Ha. Ha. No. I got you something while I was wandering.-

-Oooooo. Is it tall, dark, and handsome?-

I snorted to myself, enable to curb my desire to tease my best friend. -Isn’t your thing tall, blond, and beefy?-

-Shut up.-

-How’s your neighbor by the way? Gotten a piece of that yet?-

-My neighbor is still my mission. I’m never that unprofessional Mercedes and you know it.-

-It would be totally worth the reprimand for that ass.-

-I hate you.-

-You know I’m right.-

-Still hate you. Hurry home.-

-Whatever you say, Shar-Bear.-

I sent the last text as I collapsed in the driver’s seat with an exhausted sigh. Sharon never mentioned it outright but I knew she kept track of me through the phone’s GPS signal unless I specifically deactivated it. Which I did more often than not out of a healthy respect for modern governments’ complete lack of respect for their population’s privacy. So as a compromise I voluntarily kept her up-to-date on my location if we had plans. Peggy had instilled a healthy paranoia in Sharon from a young age and I’d be lying if I didn’t admit to using every weapon in my arsenal to check on her when I could too. It was a force of habit I couldn’t quite break. Raised to lead what was left of the Fallen Angels from Yggdrasil’s tenth realm, Heven, I’d had one rule above all else drummed into my head since the day I was born: a true empress saw to the needs of all others before their own. My people’s servitude and Sharon’s friendship was a gift. I’d lost enough over the decades to know such things were not to be taken for granted.

Pulling out on to the main expressway headed towards the business district, I tapped my fingers idly against the steering wheel as I considered the rest of the evening’s schedule. Sharon had insisted we have a girls’ night since it had been nearly two months since I’d been in town last and apparently that was ‘too long for best friends to go without hanging out’. Which was a direct quote. This must be a new rule since Peggy and I had gone years sometimes without seeing each other but I was more than willing to indulge Sharon. She was so restful to be around. While she didn’t have all the details of my life, she knew enough to not be completely freaked out by me doing something outside the realm of normal human possibility. And she didn’t fawn over me with a single-minded intensity that left my stomach roiling in discomfort.

That was left to my Angels, though realistically I knew it was a matter of psychological abuse and manipulation perpetuated by past rulers. The Angels’ devotion was absolute because anything less was grounds for death. My parents were the first rulers to promote a sense of individual identity amongst our people and after their deaths, I’d done everything in my power to continue the gentle nurturing of our people towards better mental health. Even when the incessant bickering between clans made it difficult not to use my power to make them shut up every time I had more than three in the room at once. Still, progress was being made so I couldn’t justify undoing all their work for the sake of a tension headache I could great rid of with a good cup of tea. At least we’d gotten to the point that our daily communal meditative sessions were less a pissing contest and more a group collaboration to keep ourselves safe in the ever-evolving world we called home now. There might be hope yet.

Twenty minutes later I was pulling into the deserted drive of a rundown warehouse, noting with some concern how the normal homeless population seemed to have cleared out entirely from the surrounding industrial park. Perhaps with the unseasonably mild weather we were experiencing they had moved to closer to the heart of the city. Or someone called the cops to clear them out again. Either was equally as likely. I parked next to one of the buildings I kept for storage purposes, making sure to lock the doors before I headed over to the side entrance. Most people were decent sorts and my car probably would have been fine. Then again, an ounce of preparation and all that.

An eerie whine hummed through my mind as I climbed out of my car, the familiar warning causing me to pause and glance around suspiciously. It was something I’d inherited from my Valkyrie mother. A sort of danger indicator that picked up on hostile intentions from living beings within striking distance of me. It would grow more piercing the closer I got to the potential enemy but its accuracy was a little hit or miss. There was no directional indication with it. Which meant I’d been startled more than once by something as simple as a garter snake rushing me when it felt I’d grown too close to its current hiding spot. As an early warning system it had its uses. But if I wanted to actually know what was going on, I’d have to rely on more intricate senses.

When another glance around the area revealed no potential threats, I headed slowly towards the warehouse entrance as the whine steadily grew. Not to life-threatening levels but definitely fast approaching bodily harm. Maybe a feral cat was using it as a den again. My key was halfway into the lock when I noticed the door wasn’t resting in the frame the way it should have. Someone had forced it open and then closed it enough to fool casual observation. Someone strong enough to bust through three deadbolts with their bare hands if the fist-shaped dent in the badly painted steel was anything to go by.

_Well shit…_

For normal people, this would be the part where they got back in their car and drove away while calling the cops to come check it out. Unfortunately, there was very little normal about me. Besides, I had a better chance of surviving a hit like the one to the door than any regular beat cop. No need for anyone else to get hurt when I could handle it myself.

With a mental push I sent my empathetic awareness out from the corner of my mind where I usually kept it tightly fettered. It took concentration to keep it in the relatively small thirty meter wide sphere I deemed necessary. The power struggled against such narrow limits and in the deepest depths of my mind a familiar presence stirred again as my frustration spiked briefly. I tightened my will instantly on both. Left to its own devices the power could easily reach a couple kilometers and beyond. Experience had left me with a healthy dislike for the results to my psyche when I allowed this. After all, having my mind drown in the aura of every living creature, sentient and otherwise, in my sphere of influence was not a fun time. They became hundreds of thousands of blazing lights that assaulted my mind and took serious effort to sort through. Physical makeups, along with any pain they were currently experiencing, and most useful of all, a colorful aura that showed how potentially dangerous they were all blasted my mind at the same time. Again this wasn’t an exact science. Most of my Angels registered on the higher end of the scale with oranges bleeding into pale yellows, yet I’d run smack into a known serial killer who showed a dark reddish-brown that barely elevated his threat level above common humans. I’d gotten better at sorting through these details on the fly with practice but I still used this and my more traditionally empathetic abilities as little as possible. They were horribly invasive towards the subject’s privacy. Now, however, it was crucial in figuring out what I faced if I went through this door.

Which, as it turns out, was another person just on the other side of the damaged steel. A male in his prime to be exact. Wait, no. Not just prime. There was something more to his physical makeup. Something I’d sensed before, if only briefly. I turned the puzzle over in my mind a few seconds before pushing it aside for more consideration later. Hunger and exhaustion rang jarringly through his body, the sour notes chased by brief muscle spasms that had me wincing in recognition. After all, electrocution was a favorite torture devise in the modern age. The aftereffects were fairly easy to spot if you knew what to look for. There was something else that gave me pause too. His left arm was missing from the shoulder down, though the muscles surrounding it felt strained as if a great weight was pulling on them. Amputations coupled with his impressive musculature probably meant wounded veteran. Wounded veterans meant PTSD. And judging by the fact he’d been standing undetected less than six inches from me with only a simple metal door to separate us, this needed to be handled delicately so I didn’t get an up close introduction to how dangerous he truly was.

Especially since the light radiating from his core was a bright, almost snow-like white. There were very few living beings I’d met so potentially dangerous. Even among my Angels.

Decision made, I returned to my car and popped the trunk. Inside a handful of sturdy hiking backpacks lay in a tumbled heap. They were a variety of colors and sizes, each filled with a couple changes of clothes, pamphlets for local shelters, personal grooming supplies, and protein bars. I’d been keeping emergency kits like this for as long as I could remember, modifying them over the years to most accurately fulfill the needs of homeless people I helped along the way. I decided on a simple black one, the clothes inside most likely to fit the close approximation of his body type I could get from my mental image.

Hopefully, this wouldn’t end the way most things did in my life: disastrously.

Twisting the mostly intact handle sent the man silently bolting across the warehouse. A man that big should not have managed to move that quickly, that quietly. Part of me was beginning to question my sanity. The rest of me felt horrible for scaring him. I pushed the door open slowly, the hinges protesting shrilly in the ringing silence of the warehouse. A moment’s inspection showed they had been tweaked badly. I’d have to get that fixed along with the frame before the door would secure properly again. My respect for his implied strength rose significantly. A quick inspection showed very little had been disturbed since I’d been here a few months back. Sucking in a deep breath, I sorted through the usual scents of dust, rodent droppings, and stained wood, searching for anything that might give me a clue to his state of mind. Emotions, especially strong ones in a confined space, carried very specific aromas for me. Yet there was nothing here I would have expected. No sadness, rage, longing. It was almost as if the man was completely apathetic. Which couldn’t be right either. You didn’t put that much energy into avoiding people if you didn’t care about anything.

Small patches of light from the dirty windows above fell on the mismatched smattering of furniture I kept here for my renovation projects as I headed deeper into the building. There were still plenty of pockets for deep shadows to gather. Everything here was second hand and had the threadbare sheets I’d hastily tossed over them to keep most of the dust at bay. With the exception of a particularly garish loveseat that appeared to have been vomited upon by the 1970s. Its sheet was on the floor nearby, where it’d been folded into a makeshift bedding pad. A black tactical bag sat at one end of the sheet, presumedly to act like some kind of pillow. Other than that nothing appeared to be disturbed. So my squatter was at least polite enough not to dig through my stuff.

I turned back to the room at large, keeping my awareness focused on the pitch black corner where I sensed my unexpected guest crouching. His complete lack of any discernible reaction remained steady in the face of my invasion. Which was really beginning to bother me. I wasn’t actively trying to calm him and having a potential threat waltzing around in his space should have at least caused some sort of emotional response. There wasn’t even a blip when I let my gaze drift over exactly where he should be. Not that I could make him out in the darkness. If it weren’t for my extra senses I never would have noticed him.

“Hello?” I called gently. “Please come out.”

My echo whispered back to me and the man’s muscles locked up to the point of mild discomfort momentarily. Whatever that meant.

I kept my gaze roving over the room to give the impression I hadn’t located the man’s hiding place.

“Please come out,” I tried again. “I’m not looking for any trouble and…and I don’t think you are either. You just needed a place to stay, right? A safe place? That’s okay. I don’t have a problem with you crashing here for a little while. Maybe I can help.”

Dead silence. Obviously I was making great progress.

“If you don’t want to come out, that’s fine I guess. Not optimal but fine.” I dropped the emergency kit beside his tactical bag with a sigh. “Just give me a quick second and I’ll be out of your hair. Promise.”

I rummaged through an old hope chest nearby, pulling out the silk wrapped bundle that was Sharon’s present and, after arguing myself in circles for the better part of ten seconds, a thick crocheted blanket in warm autumn colors with a matching pillow. Tossing the pillow down on the tactical bag, I crouched to spread the blanket over the sheet, taking a moment to smooth out the wrinkles. The man rose hesitantly to his feet, movements almost reluctant even as a heavy gaze landed squarely on my back. I studiously ignored my impromptu guest as I hummed to in an effort to keep my own calm. Music, whatever form it came in, was as reliable a way as I’d ever found to keep my emotions from under control. Unfortunately my fussing gave the man an opportunity to circle around to my back, still so deep in the shadows my normal senses weren’t able to track him. It was hard to not let my own paranoia clutch at my throat when he stopped in the closest shadow patch. His new position effectively cut me off from the only exit in the room. I tried to console myself with the knowledge his current level of hostility hadn’t increased. It didn’t bring nearly enough comfort. The song died on my tongue as my chocker began itching once more. Deep inside the other presence rose closer to my consciousness, a sinister hiss at the back of my mind.

Time to go.

“I don’t want any trouble,” I said aloud, trying to keep my posture as non-threatening as possible. At this point I wasn’t sure if that was for the benefit of the squatter or that all too familiar presence slowly coming to life in response to my anxiety. I did my best to focus on getting out without making it a fight. I pushed myself back to my feet and twisted to reach for Sharon’s gift. Out of the corner of my eye a muscular silhouette could just barely be made out of the surrounding darkness. “There’s food and some other things in the bag. It’s yours so do whatever you want with it. I’ve got some clothes in there too. Hopefully, they’re about the right size—“

I cut myself off as the warning in my mind changed into a continuous, blaring scream that overwhelmed everything for a single precious second. By the time I’d pushed it away, the man was clearing the space between us and I only had enough time to flinch back a half step before he was on me.

An enormous hand clamped on the back of my neck, forcing my head down so my body curled into a ball as a heavy boot slammed into the backs of my knees. My cheek cracked against the concrete floor beside the blanket, the skin burning from the rough scrap as I turned my head aside to keep my nose from breaking. Darkness enveloped me as the man dragged the blanket over my head. Fear stole my breath and I instinctively tried to twist free from his grip. My escape was hampered by my sweaty palms and numb fingers. This did not please my captor. His disapproving grumble was the only warning I received before a second gloved hand grabbed my left wrist and twisted it viciously behind my back. The loss of support sent us crashing into the hope chest, any leverage I might have managed to steal gone as the man’s significant bulk dropped onto my prone body. The angle wrenched my shoulder badly, the familiar burn of strained ligaments licking at the remnants of my self-control. His grip on my wrist was so tight it might as well have been steel. One thought managed to worm its way through my panic: didn’t he only have one arm?

**_“Stop.”_ **

The command was brusque if muffled slightly. The harsh sound of unaccented Russian wrung an aborted shudder from me. Close…gods he was too fucking close for comfort. The skin beneath my leather band ached as his grip caused it to choke me. An all too familiar sensation. Unwashed male and pungent leather mixed with the acidic stench of my own fear, the combination dragging up memories of nights spent in pain and praying for death before the next sunrise. My breath rasped uncontrollably as my throat went desert dry in an instant. The self-perpetuating cycle of frantic thrashing and steadily growing mental shrieks of warning very nearly blinded me to a separate danger. The other presence snarled as my fear reached her, rising up to mount a defense that would no doubt end in blood and death.

It almost made me miss the faint mist of salty-tang that was my captor’s melancholy floating down around us. As if the more his potential hostility grew in response to my attempts to escape, the sadder he became. He didn’t want to hurt me, I realized as I finally quit trying to work myself loose from his impossibly tight hold. He would, though, if I kept fighting.

So I took a deep breath, calling myself every fool name I knew, and then forced my body to relax entirely. My free hand released its grip on the fist at the nape of my neck. I purposefully worked it into the folds of the blanket covering my head, needing something to ground me other than pain. One by one the muscles running from my back to my legs released their tension. The minute twitch of my captor’s fingers was the only sign he noticed anything. Inside the rage was banked, if only for a moment. I could fake calm with the best of them but something needed to change for me to get this back under control before anyone was hurt.

 ** _“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you,”_** I whispered, my voice turning guttural with the Russian accent. It had been years since I’d used the dialect and the words felt just the slightest bit rusty on my tongue. **_“Or startle you or whatever. I’ll do whatever you want. Just please…please let me go. You’re scaring me.”_**

My captor stopped breathing for an impossibly long moment. Then he let out a shuddering sigh. Instantly the warning blare in my mind cut in half. **_“Don’t look.”_**

Surprise effectively smothered the rage and panic at war inside me. Well, that wasn’t what I was expecting.

**_“What?”_ **

**_“My orders. If you look, if you see… you can’t leave…alive…”_ **

My heart unclenched at his words. It was a kindness I never would have guessed was coming. And one I wasn’t about to refuse.

 ** _“You…”_** My voice failed and it took two tries before I had enough saliva to wet my vocal cords properly. **_“You have my word.”_**

The man rose instantly, lifting me with laughable ease as he adjusted his grip subtly to keep from injuring my shoulder further. As promised, I kept my eyes firmly shut as my feet scrambled to brace me properly. There was a moment’s pause as he turned me to fully face him and I forced myself to remain compliant, swallowing against the vulnerability my blindness left me drowning in. All my vast experience in situations like this told me I was stupid to trust him. That more pain was the only thing my trust would bring. I did my best to silence the old fear. When I didn’t so much as twitch my eyelid, the man turned away without comment. Though the screeching in my head faded to a barely audible whine, disappearing as abruptly as his melancholy had. Apparently I’d passed whatever test he’d chosen for now.

My companion was fairly considerate as he dragged me back towards the only exit by my left wrist. Still, it didn’t stop me from cracking my foot into a solid oak dresser when he drug me through the maze of furniture that separated us from the door. Swearing under my breath, I hobbled awkwardly in an attempt to keep up with the man’s insistent pace, distracted as I was by the pain. My lack of focus was rewarded with the same foot connecting solidly with a rogue cinderblock that was left over from a previous project. By the sharp snap emanating from my foot, this time my stride had enough oomph to crack something in it.

That was going to be awesome to deal with later.

My teeth creaked as I clench my jaws around the hurt noise that struggled to escape. Now wasn’t the time. The next limping step was all sharp, biting pain but it was nothing I hadn’t worked through a thousand times before. My escort didn’t appear to share my nonchalance. He abruptly swept me up into his arms, ignoring my indignant yelp and continued without breaking his stride. Cold metal pressed against my back, plates shifting subtly with faint whirring noises. It took me another moment to realize what it actually was. An advanced metal prosthesis…Holy shit. What the hell happened to this guy?

**_“I can walk, you know.”_ **

My admonishment was met with a noncommittal grunt.

Sighing in mild annoyance, I swallowed what was left of my pride before resting my forehead against the firm swell of his chest. Metal buckles connecting stiff leather straps dug into my face and I couldn’t stop my hand from tracing over the constricting weave as it moved subtly with his measured breaths. It felt less like a tactical vest, more like a…harness. Or cage. This close it was hard not to notice how many days it had been since the man had showered. Though I wasn’t about to throw stones. I was still covered in the remains of the dog fighting house. It was probably a toss-up who needed a bath worse.

My only warning we’d finally reached the door was my feet being dropped out from under me. Letting out a startled squeak, I clung to my escort for support until my brain caught up with the fact I wasn’t going to face-plant from such a small height. Especially with the metal arm still wrapped around my waist. Embarrassment flooded my cheeks before draining down to my chest. My escort shifted slightly, the plates of his arm adjusting with the same faint whirring as before. I flinched away from the bizarre skittering feeling they left through the thin material of my tank top. We stood in awkward silence as I cradled my injured arm to my throbbing chest. My heart still felt like it was trying to lodge itself behind my Adam’s apple. It took more effort than I cared to admit for me to find my voice once more.

**_“Thanks…I think.”_ **

**_“Leave. Before they come back.”_** This was accompanied with a less than subtle shove into the metal door. It probably would have given a normal person a mild concussion. Though it didn’t necessitate the deep thrumming ache sinking into my muscles. Now wasn’t the time to be puzzling that out though. The man was starting to shift impatiently nearby. My hand instinctively scrambled for the knob before a sudden thought occurred to me.

**_“Wait! The bag by the trunk. The silk bag. Can I please have it?”_ **

I felt the man disappear from in front of me, moving through the warehouse in a swift but economic fashion that was absolutely silent. He was a wonder to behold. When he wasn’t using it to pin me to the ground against my will. A few seconds later I felt him return to my side with the tiniest scuff from his boots to announce his presence. I reached out hesitantly, head tilting towards him even though my eyes were squeezed as tightly shut as possible. Sharon’s gift was unceremoniously shoved into my arms. I clutched it to me, trying to subtly arch my sore back off the door as I offered a tentative smile in the man’s direction.

 ** _“Thank you,”_** I said. There was another faint rustle and I felt stiff canvas brush against my crossed arms. **_“No, that’s for you. It’s a gift.”_**

The bag was pushed more insistently at me.

 ** _“It’s yours. Besides, I think you need it more than me,”_** I insisted right back, sinking as much authority as I dared into my tone. **_“Take it.”_**

Neither of us moved for another long moment, the silence growing but without any sort of sinister edge. It was more like we were waiting to see who would yield first. Fortunately, or unfortunately based on your point of view, I was probably the most stubborn creature in the known universe. According to everyone I knew at least. Eventually, the bag was removed from my arm and I smiled victoriously. The mysterious man’s answer was to yank open the door from behind me so he could shove me back out into the real world. I landed on my butt with an undignified squawk.

 ** _“Leave,”_** he barked harshly and then slammed the door shut.

 ** _“You’re welcome,”_** I called back, huffing irritably as I opened my eyes to glare defiantly at the metal door. ** _“Jerk.”_**

The screech of a deadbolt being forced home against its will was my only answer.


	3. Chapter 2: Neighbors

By the time I made it to Sharon’s apartment a deep, bone-numbing exhaustion had wormed its way into every corner of my mind and body. Even shutting my other sense back off didn’t seem to help once I was clear of the warehouse. Though my other half had returned to her customary slumber at the back of my mind much quicker than I anticipated given recent events. Apparently she’d decided I was done trying to get my fool self killed for the moment. I stumbled into Sharon’s doorway, swaying unsteadily as I finally realized why I was acting like a puppet whose strings got cut. When in contact with people suffering some sort of physical injury, I had the ability to absorb their wounds, even partially, as well as any physical pain they might have suffered from said wounds. If I wasn’t careful and their need was great enough, my body reacted instinctively and soaked them into my flesh without my consent. Apparently, my squatter had fit the bill. And given the ever growing points of burning pain, I’d have to do some serious self-care to recover. Gorging myself on high-calorie food and sleeping for a week was probably a good place to start. Well, maybe not a week. At least a couple hours though.

I fumbled for Sharon’s spare key as I leaned heavily against the doorframe. It was harder than it should have been to juggle her gift out of the way. My eyelids hung at half-mast, fingers weakly flipping through my keychain until they landed on the right one. Unfortunately, something shifted in my left wrist when I transferred the keys to it, causing my fingers to lose all sensation. I lost my grip on the keys, hissing softly as I cradled the injury to my chest. Closer observation made me realize most of my carpal bones were cracked from the pressure of the metal hand’s grip. As well as enough damage to the nerves running through there to interfere with my ability to articulate my fingers’ movements. Clearly defined finger-shaped bruises stood out on my pale skin and I let out an exasperated huff. Sharon was going to kill me. Not to mention what Kali would say if she found out.

“Excuse me, ma’am. It looks like you dropped your…keys…”

The gentle baritone trailed off and I glanced up into the brightest sky blue eyes I’d ever seen in my life. Captain Steven Rogers, a.k.a. Captain America, was shockingly tall. Maybe even taller than my squatter, though their musculature was oddly similar. Broad in the chest with a trim waist and thick legs that could probably crush a bowling ball, Rogers should have been deeply intimidating. Would have been, if it wasn’t for the genuine concern written in every laugh line surrounding his sensitive mouth. And the complete lack of any hostility-based warning from my mind. His wind-swept dirty blond hair looked freshly trimmed, handsome face clean-shaven, and comfortable street clothes softening the hard plains of his lean body. As he plucked the offending keys from the floor, his gaze grew an edge of protective rage and I understood better why Sharon had been so hung up on him all these months.

“Ma’am, are you okay?” he asked hesitantly.

I offered a wane smile in return. “If it makes you feel any better, the blood’s not actually my own.”

Roger’s gaze zeroed in on my left cheek and I mentally reevaluated that claim while I tried not to flinch at the memory of my face being shoved into concrete.

“Well, most of it isn’t, anyway.”

Judging by his growing frown, the All-American hero did not, in fact, find that reassuring. “Ma’am, if you need help, I’d be happy to—”

“It’s really not what you think.”

“I think someone bigger an’ stronger than you laid hands on you.”

Well, he had me there. “True as that may be,” I continued doggedly, “there were extenuating circumstances. It’s really not all that serious.”

“Ma’am, to be frank, no circumstances excuse this kind of behavior,” Rogers said, stepping closer as I leaned my head back against the wall to ease the strain on my neck. Idly wondering if I should get Sharon one of those stupid neck pillows helped distract me from the half-hearted bubble of anxiety at his proximity that rose slowly in my hindbrain. “No matter how much you care about someone, if they do this once they’ll do it again. Maybe next time will be worse. Please let me help you.”

“Captain Rogers—“

“Just Steve, ma’am.” He didn’t even bat an eye at my assumption of his identity.

“Steve,” I indulged, my expression softening a little when I only found sincere concern and protective rage staring down at me. I kept my gaze carefully focused on the crease between his eyebrows after that. It was a courtesy I tried to extend to everyone I didn’t deem as a threat. Having your emotions laid bare at another’s whim was invasive. I wouldn’t intentionally leave them so vulnerable, especially without their consent and no way for them to defend against it. Most people just assumed eye contact made me uncomfortable. They had no idea how true that was. “There is no abusive relationship here. I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Nothing more.”

“You were mugged?”

“No.”

“Are you going to give me any more information than that?”

“Not likely.”

“Why not?”

I ticked off my reasons with my right hand as I answered. “One, because I’m not a soldier in your squad. That means I don’t answer to you. I have a right to my own privacy. Two, because admirable as your physique is, not everything can be fixed with a punch to the face. And three, because I’m pretty sure the poor squatter I startled into attacking me is a homeless veteran and he doesn’t need the Face of Freedom coming down on his head like some sort of avenging angel over a reaction he can’t control.”

An impressive range of emotions from frustration to surprise to sympathy crossed the captain’s face before he finally settled on wiry resignation. “I suppose those are all valid reasons,” he said and we shared a gentle chuckle. “I apologize if I came on a little strong, ma’am.”

“Your heart is in the right place, I can tell,” I said with a half shrug. My left shoulder was really starting ache and I didn’t want to aggravate it any more than I had to. “Please don’t worry about it.”

“I can’t promise that,” Rogers warned me.

“Well if it makes you feel any better, I’ll be having the riot act read to me the entire time your neighbor patches me up.”

“You’re friends with Kate?”

Sharon’s cover name threw me for a moment and I hoped he would chalk my delayed response up to my injuries. “I’ve known her family forever,” I said, more honest than the captain would probably ever know. “We were supposed to have a girls’ night tonight but I don’t think there’ll be as much wine consumed as we originally planned. Unfortunately, I’ll probably be more interested in her stash of ice packs than merlots.”

“You might have a problem with that,” Rogers admitted and I could have sworn I saw embarrassment flickered across his face before he could tuck it away. “She depleted her supply for me the other night.”

The little minx. I couldn’t quite smother my smirk. “Captain America needs ice packs like us mere mortals?”

“I’m enhanced, not invulnerable,” he shot back.

“And the cute blonde nurse has nothing to do with it, I’m sure,” I snarked just to see if he blushed as brightly as Sharon claimed he did.

Crimson blossomed over his chiseled cheekbones and I openly giggled at his predicament. Oh gods, this would be fuel against her for months. Sharon was never going to hear the end of it.

“I’m sorry, that was mean,” I said, unable to keep the smile from coloring my words.

“How about a truce?” Rogers asked.

I arched an eyebrow in response. This should be interesting. “You have my full attention.”

“I return the ice packs to you and we forget this conversation ever took place.”

“Is that your final offer?”

“You have something different in mind?”

“Not different, necessarily. Just…more. That a problem?”

“No?” Rogers looked a little nervous for the first time since our conversation started.

“I want the ice packs and you tell me if you have a preference for cookies, muffins, or brownies.”

That was definitely not what he was expecting. “You want to bake me cookies…?”

“Not just you,” I informed him. “I stress bake and after the day I’ve had, there’s going to be way more than myself, Sharon, or her colleagues will be able to eat. Besides,” I gave him a softer smile, “this way I get to say thank you.”

“Thank you? For what?”

“You cared enough about a complete stranger to convince them to leave an abusive relationship just because you saw a couple of bruises,” I explained quietly. “Most people wouldn’t have given me a second glance. Didn’t in fact, while I was on my way here. They figure it’s not their problem, so why stick their neck out. You not only kept trying when I shut you down but you listened, despite thinking you knew better. If that hasn’t earned you a ‘thank you’, I don’t know what would.”

Rogers seemed to consider that for a long moment before he nodded thoughtfully. “You’ve got yourself a deal. So long as I can have a name to put to the face.”

“My friends call me Mercy.” I held my hand out and he gingerly shook it once before releasing it as if my hand would fall off if he held it a second longer. I almost rolled my eyes but decided to cut him a break. He had no way of knowing I wasn’t that fragile.

“So,” I said, waiting expectantly.

“I’ll be fine with anything you make.”

“That wasn’t the agreement, soldier.” I smirked when he arched an eyebrow at my tone. Neither of us acknowledged the instinctive straightening of his posture at my authoritative demand. After a moment I decided to take a little more pity on him. “You responded more to cookies than the other two, so why don’t we start there.”

Rogers nodded slowly. “I can live with that.”

“Would you prefer something familiar or new?”

“New isn’t all bad.” Judging by his carefully constructed sentence, a little nostalgia sounded like it was in order.

“Any food allergies?”

That got me an exasperated look.

“Hey, we both know what assuming things does,” I shot back. “I don’t like being an ass any more than absolutely necessary. And I’m not going to be the woman who accidentally poisons Captain America.”

“No. I haven't had any allergies in over seventy years.” Rogers considered me for a moment longer. “Maybe not oatmeal? They’re fine, they’re just not…you know.”

“What about sugar cookies?”

“I haven’t had a good sugar cookie since 1936.”

There was a hint of sadness to his eyes now and I struggled to control the knee-jerk reaction to soothe it away. We didn’t know each other well enough for that. Besides, I was running low on juice as it was.

“I’ll do my best not to disappoint,” I told him and shifted Sharon’s gift to my left arm so I could hold my right hand out expectantly.

It took Rogers a moment to realize he still had my keys tucked inside one of his giant mitts. His stammered apology was just shy of cringeworthy adorable. It took great restraint not to poke fun at him for it.

Opening Sharon’s apartment, I slipped inside with a careless wave. “I’ll leave the door unlocked. Just leave the ice packs in the freezer if you want.”

“Won’t Kate mind a strange man being in her apartment without her permission?”

I cast a suggestive smirk over my shoulder before heading to the bathroom. “I guarantee she won’t mind you being here. Ever.”

There was no verbal response to my jab but given how quickly Rogers’ apartment door slammed, I figured that blush was going into overdrive. Sharon would probably have words for me about it later. Still totally worth it.

A quick trip to the refrigerator armed me with several pre-made protein shakes that I downed without actually tasting the offensive chalk they came from. The nutrients were necessary if I wanted my self-healing abilities to kick in. I snagged a trash bag from under the kitchen sink for my clothes. There was no way I was putting in the effort required to save them. I left Sharon’s gift in plain sight on her dresser, making it impossible for her to miss when she got home. I stripped once the bathroom door shut behind me, biting back a groan as every muscle clamored to report their abuse now that the danger was passed. There was a small bruise on the back of my right hand, similar in shape to the single time I’d let my blood be drawn at Peggy’s insistence. I realized after a moment it was most likely from an IV site of some kind. A brief glance toward the mirror on the back of the door showed an impressive series of bruises cascading from the back of my neck and spreading slowly all the way down to the backs of my calves. My sympathy for my squatter grew exponentially as I traced the familiar shapes left by lead-cored batons and more than one bitter red, snake-like mark that was most likely from a stun rod of some kind. I hoped whatever monsters had done this to him burned in their afterlives. The bruises were a deep, angry purple that would probably be gone by the time I finished sleeping tonight. Until then it was a steady ache I pushed aside. There was much worse pain to be felt. At least the squatter had the chance of some peace with these wounds removed.

The sight of the wide, onyx choker surrounded by a second set of finger-shaped bruises had my lips pulling back in a silent snarl. The choker was Asgardian made. A ‘gift’ from an irate Allfather before I escaped my hellish imprisonment with the help of my now ex-betrothed. Complicated magical runes were stamped into nearly every inch of the offensive leather contraption. Every Midgardian magical expert I’d talked to could only guess at their true meaning, though everyone agreed it was some sort of containment spell and a trigger. And the only person who could remove it was the one who put it on there in the first place. The containment had been directed towards my powers, specifically the secondary presence lurking in my mind like some semi-friendly boogieman, keeping them at maybe a tenth of their full capacity. At least, that was the only guess I could hazard from past experience. The trigger though…that had been added later. Once I proved to be too strong to be contained entirely with their energy-sucking chains and endless brutalization. The vicious scars crisscrossing like some twisted tapestry gave voice to that story. With a single word the collar would tighten until I either passed out or the counter-phrase was used. The weight of it was a constant reminder my freedom was entirely dependent another’s whim.

In all honesty, the only reason I wasn’t back in a forgotten cell in the belly of Asgard’s deepest pit was my ex-betrothed’s parting gift: the bright gold pendant fixed to the center of the choker that kept me magically shielded from enemy locator spells. Including Heimdall the Asgardian Gate-Keeper, the Allfather himself, and now my ex-betrothed. The pendant’s creation had probably led to his own imprisonment if I was completely honest with myself. Years had passed since we last communicated. Though I’d seen him just a couple months ago: broken, bloodied, and forgotten in a deserted realm I was passing through after doing a favor for the only Aesir I still called friend. And gods curse my soft heart but I hadn’t been able to leave until I healed him enough to keep him from dying. A long delayed ‘thank you’ for the pendant that was only a band-aid in all reality. I’d never truly be safe until the day I figured out how to get the damn choker removed.

And when I did, I wouldn’t rest until I’d shoved it down the Allfather’s traitorous, condescending throat.

With a heavy sigh, I forced my attention away from thoughts of revenge and towards something actually attainable in the near future: like a nice, relaxing shower. The knobs turned smoothly into place with faint squeaks as I started the water. Sharon’s apartment building was blessed with excellent water pressure. Though the hot water heater could be a larger size. Still, I had a pretty good chance that everyone else was still at work this time of day. Waiting for the temperature to stabilize between Jotunheim spring rain and a Nidavellir forge at full capacity, I freed my hair from its half undone braid. Bits of dried blood and every other bodily fluid I did not let myself identify floated to the floor as I finger combed the locks into some semblance of order. A quick check of the temperature confirmed the shower was finally ready.

Half an hour later I felt like a new woman. The protein shakes had helped my powers take the worst edge off my injuries and were making serious progress in knitting the cracked bones back together. Soft loungewear with a high collar and long sleeves fit snuggly to me but was still infinitely more comfortable than the destroyed coveralls sitting neatly in the trash bag by Sharon’s front door. The fuzzy sleeping shorts I opted for helped balance the unnecessary warmth from the top. I borrowed one of her terrycloth hair wraps to keep my hair out of the way while I started doing something about the leftover tendrils of frustration slithering through my veins. My iPod and headphones were dropped at the beside table for charging later. Out in the kitchen, I found Peggy’s old crock mixing bowl waiting for me on the counter along with the best wooden spoon to use with it. Time and countless batches of cookies had worn the spoon's edge so it fit the bowl’s curvature. Apparently, Sharon was also craving cookies rather than the other two suggestions she’d offered. With a soft smile, I pulled several sticks of butter from the refrigerator to begin softening them. After all, I couldn’t disappoint both tenants when they asked so nicely.

———————————————————————————————————————————————-------------------------------

The fourth pan’s worth was just coming out of the oven when Sharon made her way into the kitchen, a bemused smirk twisting her normally cheerful face as she held up a plastic shopping bag filled with frosted ice packs. The young agent was dressed in light gray scrubs, her deceptively soft body balanced and ready for an attack despite being safe in her own home. She was the picture-perfect image of a nurse: efficient, slightly baby-faced, and competent sounding no matter what topic she was discussing. If I looked carefully enough, I could see Peggy in the rounded features of her face and in the soft waves hanging down past her shoulders, regardless of the color difference. Still, there was something uniquely Sharon about her soft mouth. The corners never failed to tilt up, even with the slightly fuller bottom lip that ruined her otherwise perfect symmetry. She’d also inherited Peggy’s height. Or more specifically, the lack thereof. Her inheritance continued to the razor-sharp intelligence that made Peggy one of the most feared SSR agents to ever go toe-to-toe with the likes of HYDRA and other Nazi sympathizers. Peggy and I were convinced she might one day outshine her predecessor. It would be a pity Peggy wouldn’t live long enough to see it.

“Is there a reason Captain Rogers was waiting outside the door with these?” the pretty blonde asked accusingly as she placed the bag in the freezer. I made a mental note to pull some Ace bandages out of the bathroom’s first aid kit when I got a chance. The places those ice packs needed to stay was not conducive to actively moving around in the kitchen.

“Probably because he was too chicken to set foot in your apartment without a written invitation on fine parchment,” I replied with a shrug. I set the hot cookie sheet down on top of the stove and immediately put the next pan in the oven. A moment’s deliberation convinces me to adjust the timer to account for the length of time the oven had been running. This was probably one of the better doughs I’d made in a while. It would be a shame to ruin the cookies by baking them for too long.

“Why did you invite him into the apartment?” Sharon demanded as I set aside the well-used oven mitts on the counter close at hand.

“Because I didn’t want to delay my shower waiting for him to return the ice packs. He’s Captain America for Christ’s sake. Not like he would rob the place blind.”

“And what if he found something connecting me to S.H.I.E.L.D.?”

“It would be one hell of a conversation starter.”

“Are you intentionally trying to tank my entire intelligence career?”

I shrugged with feigned indifference as I began rearranging the pastry bags filled with different colored royal icing for easy accessibility. The second panful should be cool enough to begin decorating soon. “You’ll have to tell him sooner or later. Rogers isn’t your average meathead in a uniform. Those pretty baby blues see more than most people give him credit for. Telling him yourself is the only way you can salvage the possibility of a relationship down the road.”

“You know Director Fury specifically ordered me not to reveal myself unless a life-threatening altercation took place, right?” Sharon ran a hand tiredly over her face before fisting it into her honey-colored waves.

“Because you always follow orders,” I teased her gently.

That earned me a soft laugh. “You might have a point.”

“Just means you come from good stock.”

“Yeah…”

I paused in my organization to glance questioningly at my friend, careful to not initiate eye contact first. Sharon tilted her head to meet my gaze without fear. Faint whispers of amusement mixed with exasperation echoed across my mind, though painful resignation was slowly swallowing the other emotions. I closed my eyes against the reality of what those emotions meant.

“Peggy’s getting worse, isn’t she?”

“It’s amazing she’s held on as long as she has,” Sharon said instead of outright confirming my fears. “She’s starting to get mixed up mid-conversation now. Even so, she still asks about you.”

I swallowed against my stomach-rolling guilt. “Did you give her my love?”

“She doesn’t want it from me, Mercy.” My friend folded her arms across her chest as she leaned her hip against the island I had converted into a cookie decoration station. “How long has it been since you’ve gone?”

 _Too long._ I left my answer unsaid between us.

“We all have to say goodbye eventually.” The scent of Sharon’s gentle concern was a punch to my gut. My stomach knotted in protest as I braced myself on the counter’s edge. “Don’t wait until it’s too late, okay? It’ll be worse for both of you.”

“Can we not talk about this right now? I’m not…” I cut myself off, swallowing thickly against the bile crawling up my throat. I was so sick of death taking people I loved from me. “I’m not in a good place.”

“Given the number of cookies clogging up my counters and the dough left over, I’m kinda surprised I didn’t have to pry you out of the tub half frozen to death. I’m assuming there’s more going on than the animal rescue you got called out to this morning.”

Sharon moved to my side, body relaxed even when mine tensed instinctively at her proximity. Her hand strayed to my injured wrist, close enough I could feel its heat against the skin at the back of my hand but not quite touching. Letting me decide if I wanted to allow it or not. I shifted closer, dropping my forehead on her shoulder as I settled my aching wrist in her waiting grasp. Trust Captain America to rat me out. Otherwise, it would have taken longer for her to figure out where I was hurt. Sharon’s inspection was thorough yet gentle as she moved my sleeve out of the way. She made no comment as her fingers traced over the most offensive of the injuries visible across my body and we stood together in silence as I did my best to regain the calm my shower had bought. With Sharon nearby, it wasn’t long before my pulse returned to its normal rhythm.

“Who did this?” Sharon whispered eventually.

I gave a careless shrug. “Not really sure. I didn’t get a name.”

“Too busy dodging punches?” Her tone was definitely not filled with approval.

“He actually didn’t punch me,” I shot back, not bothering to lift my head. “Just…caught me off guard and roughed me up a little bit. It was my fault. I invaded his territory.”

“Not your usual style.”

“Well technically I own the territory but he claimed it, so it could still be considered an invasion.”

“You give him a backpack?”

“Against his will but yes. It should get him through the next couple of days.”

“You’re going back to check on him, aren’t you?” Sharon asked, sighing when I didn’t immediately deny her accusation.

Truthfully I hadn’t given it much thought. Not consciously at least. The smart thing to do would be to walk away. Hell, even call the cops so maybe he could be admitted for the kinda treatment he needed. Then again, given his orders to kill people who so much as looked at him, that probably wasn’t such a great idea either. He was stronger and faster than most humans.But there was something about him…something familiar and heartbreaking. I couldn’t just walk away yet. Not until I’d at least tried to help.

“You know, one day you’re going to get killed taking in every dangerous stray you come across,” Sharon told me sternly. “And when you do, I swear to God I’ll find a way to resurrect you just so I can kick your ass and tell you ‘I told you so’.”

Laughter bubbled up from my chest, lonely in the silence between us until Sharon lost her battle to be serious with a most un-lady like snort. We clung to each other with easy familiarity. Our bodies shuddered with mirth as our tension slowly eased with the pure joy of having someone who cared about you nearby. It didn’t matter that we were both broken in our own ways. That the danger we constantly found ourselves chasing looked to be just around the corner again. We were there for each other.

And we always would be.

A hesitant knock followed on the tail-end of our laughing fit and Sharon reluctantly untangled herself to check her peephole as I quickly went to the single cooling rack that housed the first completed batch of decorated sugar cookies. The royal icing had been resting for at least twenty minutes so it should have set enough to not distort the images I’d painstakingly piped on them. I selected two and followed on Sharon’s heels to the door. It wasn’t hard to guess who was waiting on the other side.

Captain Rogers was talking softly to Sharon as I came up beside them, his head ducked and shoulders rounded forward as if to appear smaller. Though his success was middling at best. His expression was slightly bashful as he handed her a small jar, fingers hesitating when they met hers as they curled around his offering. Warm contentment, bright with citrus and some floral notes, wafted from them both. Sharon’s face was lit with true delight as she chatted animatedly with him. It'd been a long time since I’d seen her look like that. It almost made me regret interrupting them. But I’d promised them both cookies. Hopefully, that would be enough of an apology.

“Hello again, Just Steve,” I teased gently, pointedly ignoring when the pair jumped apart like startled rabbits. As if that would fool me into ignoring how close they had been standing next to each other. “You have impeccable timing.”

“Hello, Mercy.” The captain nodded towards my friend briefly. “I didn’t mean to interrupt but after I returned the ice packs I remembered something else that might help. A…friend from work gave me this for when missions didn’t go so smoothly. I heal too fast for it to be entirely effective but I figured it might…you know, help some.”

“You’re very kind,” I said, sniffing idly as Sharon opened the jar to inspect its contents. The rich, earthy tones of well-made herbal bruise balm wafted up in return. I didn’t bother to hide my growing delight. Sure I might be able to heal faster than normal people and I had a high pain tolerance but that didn’t make the pain any more enjoyable. This would ease the dull throb thrumming across my bruises, allowing me some respite before I got to sleep the injuries off.

“Smells expensive,” Sharon pointed out as she closed the jar up and stuck it in the pocket of her scrubs for safe keeping.

“Oh, it is. You’re looking at the best all natural bruise balm known to man.” I arched an eyebrow at the captain. “How on Earth did your friend get ahold of this? It’s practically impossible to find.”

“No idea,” he said with a shrug. “Honestly, with her sometimes it’s better not to ask.”

“Hmmm.”

“Well I can promise you it’ll be put to good use,” Sharon said. “Thank you. That’s really very sweet of you.”

Rogers’ cheeks turned bright pink. “It’s no trouble, ma’am,” he assured her.

“Looks like I’ll still be owing you a favor after this,” I said and held out the cookie I’d selected for him to stall any further protest. It was perfectly round with a stylized reconstruction of his shield in royal icing.“Go on. Tell me what you think.”

He dutifully accepted the cookie, a small grin tugging at the corners of his mouth as he looked it over. “I didn’t realize you could make cookies this swell.”

“I’ll break out the edible paints at some point,” I said with a wide grin at the old-fashioned word. “Then you’ll see what a ‘swell’ cookie really looks like.”

“It’s almost too fancy to eat.”

“Oh, don’t even start that,” Sharon cut in, accepting her cookie with an arched eyebrow. It was a green and white caduceus on a cross-shaped cookie. She instantly understood my little jab and fortunately had chosen to take it with good humor. “Mercy here gets all offended when people won’t eat her pretty cooking.”

“Food is meant to be eaten,” I shot back. “Now, quit your sassing or I’ll give all the cookies to the captain.”

The super solider in question didn’t seem to be terribly put out by the idea as he downed his cookie in three enormous bites. A look of pure bliss crossed his face as he sucked the crumbs off his fingers and I struggled to keep my smug expression in check. It never failed to please me when someone enjoyed my cooking. I’m sure if I looked closely enough at the compulsion it would come back around to some deep-seated desire to take care of others. But truth be told I wasn’t in the mood for any heavy introspection at the moment. Sharon’s and Rogers’ obvious pleasure at my offering was enough to make me happy at this moment.

“So did it pass muster?” I asked somewhat rhetorically.

“That was the best thing I’ve eaten in decades,” he said with feeling. “Scout’s honor.”

“You really knocked this batch out of the park,” Sharon agreed, mouth full of cookie as she headed towards the kitchen. “I’m going back for seconds. Steve, would you like another?”

“Maybe one or two for the road.”

“You heading out?” I asked.

He nodded once before accepting a couple of cookies Sharon returned with. They were American flags. The correlation was not lost on him judging by his smirk. “Just for a short ride.”

“Civilian life leaving you restless?” I guessed. The captain gave me a sharp look at that.

“Mercy volunteers down at the local VA office from time to time,” Sharon hurried to explain. “She has a lot of experience dealing with soldiers who… carry heavy burdens.”

“Oh.” The suspicion faded from Rogers’ face instantly. It was dangerous how easily he trusted strangers. “In that case, you might know the man I was thinking of going to see. Sam Wilson?”

I laughed aloud at the coincidence. Apparently Kali’s would-be suitor had higher connections than I first thought. “Smart-ass Sammie? How in the world did you meet him?”

“Yesterday morning out on a run.” Rogers gave me a bemused grin. “Do I even want to know how he got that nickname from a lady of all people?”

“By being his usual self. He gets sassy every now and then. Though I’ll be the first to warn you he can generally back up any big talk he puts down.” I sobered slightly as I considered the reasons why Rogers might be headed to see Sam. “If you’re looking for someone to talk to, he’d be at the top my list. He’s got a good head on his shoulders and genuinely cares about people. Even if it’s just chatting over drinks. He never promises more than he can deliver.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“You do that.” The oven timer went off, drawing me back toward the kitchen. “Let us know when you come back in. I’ll have a plate ready for you to take to your apartment.”

“It might be late,” warned Rogers, though I didn’t miss the longing in his eyes when I turned back towards him.

“We’re both night owls,” Sharon assured him. “It’s no trouble at all.”

“Until later then. Ladies.” Rogers touched a couple of fingers to his forehead as if to tip an invisible hat and then headed down the stairs just on the other side of Sharon’s apartment. His footsteps faded much quicker than I would expect for a man of his size. Sharon stared after him a long moment before she gently shut the front door, the deadbolts sliding back home. Turning off the timer with a quick jab, I pulled out the latest pan of cookies, frowning at the nonexistent counter space as I was forced to accept the fact I had made way too many. Again.

“You’re freezing the rest of the dough, right?” Sharon asked when she saw the predicament I found myself in.

“I don’t think I’m going to have a choice,” I admitted sheepishly. “Ummm…help?”

Sharon laughed brightly and between the two of us, we managed to rearrange the cookie sheets enough to squeeze the last batch on the counter to cool. It wasn’t perfect but it would work long enough for us to decorate what we could and move those to the other drying racks.

“What would you do without me?” Sharon poked me playfully as I began wrapping the leftover dough tightly in a layer of wax paper before adding plastic wrap to protect it from the freezer. A significant hunk was sitting innocently in the bottom of the bowl just waiting to be devoured.

I paused a moment to give the question serious consideration. “Honestly. I haven’t a damn clue.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there is a LOT of ground we need to cover in this and I promise I've woven in as many Bucky references as I can. But the sad truth is he will not be making an appearance for the next few chapters. So as an apology and also because of how much I know I love to have the main pairing active in a story, I'll be trying to post at least two chapters at a time until we get some more Bucky/Mercy time!
> 
> Thanks so much to everyone who has taken the time to read this. I look forward to traveling with you on this journey.


	4. Chapter 3: Girls’ Night Gone Wrong

Sharon was the first one to call a break to our marathon of cookie decoration and put Captain Rogers’ bruise balm to good use. My knee-jerk protest was mostly for show. Not that I would ever admit it but my back wasn’t going to take my hunched-over position much longer and was in the process of leading a full revolt. Though experimental flexing of my wrist showed the fractures were at least starting to mend. A short break wouldn’t be all that bad.

“Are you going to be honest with me about where you’re hurt so I can help?” Sharon asked, as she wrapped the icing tubes for safe-keeping.

I grimaced slightly as I set the last of the decorated cookies aside to dry properly. “Will that actually save me a lecture or just give you more fuel for the fire?”

“I guess we’ll find out, won’t we?”

“Remind me again why I like you so much.”

“No one else can call you on your self-sacrificing bullshit,” Sharon offered as she rearranged a couple kitchen chairs so they were facing each other. “Or keep up when you dive headfirst into trouble without a care of how you’re actually going to get back out again. The more I think about it, you’re an awful lot of work, sunshine.”

“Because you’re just a piece of pumpkin pie, Shar-Bear,” I said sarcastically, rolling my eyes.

“Never said I was,” Sharon reminded me. “But I’m not the one who got tossed around like a rag doll.”

“To be fair, he only threw me once,” I said. Even as the words left my mouth, I realized how terrible an argument that was. It didn’t stop my stubborn defense of the squatter though. “It could have been a lot worse. He could have dislocated my shoulder or even broken my arm.”

“Or killed you.”

“Yes, fine. He could have _tried_ to killed me,” I admitted with a dramatic roll of my eyes. Even as enhanced as he was that probably wouldn’t have happened. “But he didn’t. He…” I paused a moment, thinking back to our encounter. There was something nagging at the back of my mind, a gut-feeling probably brought on by my empathetic abilities but one I couldn’t quite articulate. Even to myself. “He needs help. From someone. _Anyone_. And I can’t just walk away until I at least try.”

Sharon sighed heavily as she took one of the chairs. After staring at me for a long moment, she patted the chair across from her and I dutifully settled myself on it, staring at the bruises on my wrist as I rolled my sleeve out of the way. It was a shocking reminder of how much damage the man could do if he decided to not be gentle. I should have been repulsed by it, by him. Should have turned tail and not stopped running until I was on the other side of the globe. Still, something called me back to him, to the man who seemed to take no pleasure in the pain he doled out effortlessly.

Trembling fingers tilted my face to meet Sharon’s concerned gaze and I felt guilty at the worry this would cause her. It didn’t change my decision though. Apparently my best friend could see that too.

“I’m not going to pretend I understand,” she said eventually. “I’m not even sure anything good will come of it. Some people are just too broken to help.”

My heart clenched at her last sentence, my mind flickering to my many scars, seen and unseen, as I considered her statement.

“I don’t believe that,” I said softly. “After all the shit I’ve seen and done, most people would say I’m too broken to come back too. But that didn’t stop me from rebuilding my life. The biggest difference is I had people I could lean on. Maybe he just needs someone to give him a safe place until he can find his own feet.”

“Just don’t get killed, okay?” Sharon seemed to realize she wasn’t going to talk me out of this harebrained idea. Now she would focus on mitigating damage. It was one of her best strengths as an agent. “Do you want me to dig around? See if I can find anything out about him?”

“Not yet. I’ll be in contact with the Network later tonight. I’ll see what they can dig up for me first.”

“You know they’re not going to like what he did to you.”

 _Understatement of the century._ “I’m not obligated to tell them the whole story. It would just upset them for no reason.”

“Because that’s definitely not going to bite you in the ass,” Sharon said.

The only mature response I could think for that was to stick my tongue out and scrunch my nose up at her.

Our laughter echoed throughout the apartment as Sharon turned her attention to applying the bruise balm to my wrist. I let her work in silence, my gaze drifting to the wall beyond as I considered how to approach my meditative session tonight. There was a delicate balance to communicating with several thousand sentient minds at once. Drop my mental shields too far and every corner of my mind was open to scrutiny. I might love my people but there was too much information they would instinctively take advantage of if I gave them the opportunity. Keep the shields too high; I risked not communicating properly with them. Neither option ended well for anyone. Millenia old mercenaries tended to get into mischief if their energies weren’t properly funneled into productive causes. I’d learned the hard way that left to their own devices they would complicate my life beyond my wildest imagination. Unintentionally of course. They just had different priorities when it came to how my time should be spent. Tucked into a fortified, sterile castle where I was waited on hand and foot by legions of loyal killing machines was their optimum situation. The very thought of it left me in the throes of a panic attack.

So we compromised. I allowed them to create a global wide intelligence network, commonly referred to among our people simply as The Network, with fingers in everything from government intelligence communities to independent security companies so they were strategically positioned to protect me from any possible threats. They kept a distant, if deeply scrutinizing, eye on the area surrounding me. Everyone played to their strengths. I oversaw all contracts, making sure they didn’t get into anything too morally dubious for my tastes and reluctantly took a percentage of all profits made. That was another argument I had yet to win. All previous royalty took the lion’s share of the people’s hard work and returned just barely enough for the people to survive on. That I took a mere thirty percent of the profits was unheard of and bordered on insulting. Still, I was able to reinvest much of what was given into the clan’s home bases without causing too many hurt feelings. What was left over would be enough for me to live in the lap of luxury for centuries to come and also funded my selected charities, namely the house renovations I used for personal therapy.

“Okay, where else do you need this stuff to go?”

Sharon’s question drew me from my introspection and it took me a second to remember what she was talking about. “I could use some on my back,” I admitted sheepishly. I stubbornly refused to meet her eyes when she glared at me.

“This guy is really starting to piss me off.”

“These aren’t his fault. Besides it could—”

“—have been worse,” she finished with a roll of her eyes. “Just out of curiosity, did you get a reading on your Mercy-scale before or after you decided to get up and personal with a potential psychopath?”

Her chosen name for the auras I read had me rolling my own eyes in response. “I’m not a complete moron, ya know.”

“And where did he land?”

“Why does it matter?”

“For research purposes, obviously.” I almost checked the floor for the puddle of sarcasm dripping off her words.

“Right around ‘only-to-be-fucked-with-under-dire-circumstances’,” I snapped. “I deemed the circumstances to be dire enough to warrant further investigation. So sue me.”

“Which naturally means entering a confined space without backup. Mercy—”

The stubborn jut of my jaw had her cutting off whatever lecture she was about to start. Sharon blew out a harsh breath before twisting her finger to indicate I should readjust my position.

“Turn around. Can you lift your shirt or should I help?”

“You’d better let me,” I said after a moment’s thought. I might have been better than I was before I got in the shower but I still wasn’t one hundred percent yet.

Sharon leaned back, eyes shifting to the side as I spun in the chair, flipping a leg over the back so I was straddling it with my back in easy reach. A moment’s finagling had my shirt bunched up at the back of my neck and wrapped down around my breasts, leaving my arms and back completely bare. I tucked my freshly brushed and braided hair over my shoulder so it stayed out of the way. Pain flared briefly but with an intensity I wasn’t entirely expecting. My stubbornness was the only thing that kept me quiet. I deliberately settled myself into the chair, arms folded across the top so I could pillow my uninjured cheek on them. A couple deep breaths helped control the anxiety bubbling in my blood at making myself vulnerable to another person. Even if my mind knew it was Sharon sitting there, my body was tense, waiting for whatever abuse it instinctively knew would follow. My friend was kind enough not to say anything. She knew how hard it was for me to allow another person behind me. Maybe not the specifics of what transpired to cause my reactions but she was too intelligent not to hazard a fairly accurate guess.

Then again it could have been the fact her horrified gaze was too busy staring at the obvious marks left over from the squatter’s beating that saved me from her inquiry.

“Oh my God…”

“I told you,” I whispered. “He needs help.”

“Jesus, that’s not even the half of it, is it?” She took a bracing suck of air before she turned all business again. “All set?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” I said, closing my eyes.

“Let me know if this is too much pressure,” Sharon said gently.

I gave a noncommittal hum as I focused on my breathing.

Gentle fingers rested against the center of my back, hesitating as my muscles tensed to smother my instinctive flinch. After a moment, Sharon continued to rub the balm into my skin. She gave a sympathetic hum as I tried to keep from vocalizing my pain loud enough for her to hear. Not that it fooled her any. She just had the decency not to rub my face in it. Eventually my body settled into a hazy suspension, my friend’s familiar touch breaking through the demons of my past and letting me enjoy the rare treat of someone taking care of me for a change. Minutes marched quietly on to eternity before she smoothed her hand down my spine one final time.

“Do you want any more on?” Sharon asked.

I shook my head and worked my shirt back into place. “No. That should be more than enough. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

“So what’s the plan for the rest of the night?” I asked, smoothing the last of the wrinkles from my shirt with faintly trembling hands.

“Well, I’ve got laundry to do and you’ve got a ‘conference call’ to take,” Sharon pointed out as she made aptly timed air quotes with one hand. “I figured we could reconvene after you were done. I’ve got a couple bottles of wine that are lonely. It would be a shame to waste them.”

“A shame indeed.”

Sharon was constantly introducing me to new alcohols. It had become something of a game between us when she came of age. Recently I’d found I was able to increase and decrease my metabolism at will, allowing me to vary the amount of energy I burned through at any given time. Given how high my metabolism naturally ran it was nearly impossible for me to become intoxicated. Unless I intentionally slowed it to a crawl. This allowed me to understand the sensations alcohol created in the body, which was useful when I sensed it in other people. It also gave me a gauge with which to judge other people’s level of intoxication and how close they were to death. It had only been once but I could still feel the sickening feeling of my organs slowly shutting down before I vomited the alcohol back up. Since then I’d been much more careful about the amounts I consumed.

“Will I be in the way in the living room?” I asked, standing slowly and stretching just to feel my muscles tingle as the balm was absorbed into my skin.

“Nope,” Sharon said, letting the P _pop_ loudly. “I’ll be down in the basement if you need me for any reason.”

“You should wait for Rogers to come back. I’ll bet he’d let you use his machines.”

“I hate you,” Sharon said with feeling. I didn’t bother hiding the laughter rolling up from my belly as she did her best to hide the pink flush stalking over her face.

“Doesn’t mean I’m not right. I bet he’d make it worth your while.”

Sharon was not the slightest bit amused by my suggestive eyebrow waggle. “You are positively vulgar, you know that? Captain Rogers is a gentleman.”

“With _really_ big thumbs.”

“On second thought, get out. I’m never speaking to you again.” Sharon practically fled to collect her laundry basket and I collapsed on her couch, snickering as she continued to shout her protests in my direction. “And no, this pretty silk bag doesn’t make up for you being the worst friend ever! The only reason you pick at me about this shit is because you don’t have your own man-troubles!”

I was mature enough to admit the truth of that statement. “That’s because one crazy ex-fiancé was lesson enough for me. I can’t help that you’re a glutton for punishment.”

“You mark my word, Mercedes Nilsen,” Sharon threatened from her bedroom door, laundry basket balanced precariously on her hip. “Some day a man is going to drop into your life with the force of an atom bomb and I’m going to get back at you for every embarrassing thing you’ve ever done to me.’

“Don’t hold you breath, Shar-Bear,” I said with a smirk. “You’re libel to pass out before that prediction comes true and there’s no Captain Rogers to resuscitate you.”

“Worst. Friend. Ever!” she repeated vehemently before bustling out the front door.

It probably said something terrible about me that I took such great pleasure in watching my normally confident friend trip all over herself for the captain. Then again I was so damn ecstatic she was finally obsessing over something besides her career at S.H.I.E.L.D. that I probably would have kissed Rogers myself if that kind of behavior wouldn’t leave me nauseous and him scandalized.

Settling into a comfortable lotus position with my bare feet resting on their opposing knees, I let my fingers entwine in the opening of my lap and straightened my back in preparation for a long meditative session. My hostility awareness, or what Sharon cheerfully referred to as the ‘oh-shit’ meter, would warn me if anything threatening came within striking distance. I let myself drop slowly back into the well of my power. It was a controlled fall that allowed me to sink all the way to the center where my greatest strengths and vulnerabilities entwined.

The power shaped itself in my mind’s eye like a giant burning Yggdrasil, my telepathic connections to the ten clans each nestled safely in defined clusters on separate branches. Here was the very fabric of my being. My powers wound together in a complex living tapestry of mismatched magics that somehow managed to make a single whole. It continued to grow even now, something that was highly unusual. Technically I should have reached my maturity nearly a century ago. However I’d never experienced the Change and while my body didn’t age, it was steadily growing stronger with each passing year. Some thought my unique heritage was to blame. There had never been a successful union between an Aesir and an Angel before me. That meant everything about me was new territory. I was more inclined to believe my cursed choker interfered with more than was originally intended. That thought brought a shift of movement from the brightly shining Yggdrasil.

Woven through the gnarled roots and soaring trunks was a giant serpent, a physical manifestation of the power that made me an empress of my people. The simplest explanation I’d received from her was she was the collective consciousness of all the past empresses back to the very beginning of our race. It was her presence the choker reacted to most often and if I was going to be completely honest, the Allfather was right to fear her. Her scales were the deepest black of space, iridescent markings almost dancing along her powerful body as the muscles beneath bunched in anticipation. Her shape reminded me of an anaconda, sinewy yet remarkably graceful all at the same time. Glowing golden eyes regarded me with cool, predatory intelligence behind narrowed slits. I faced my other half calmly, knowing any glimpse of weakness would lead to a prolonged battle for dominance between us. Something I was not in the mood for. Whatever the serpent saw in my face seemed to please her and she slowly rose to meet my decent. I alighted gently upon her snout, shifting to mirror the lotus position my physical body currently occupied.

 _Good evening, Apohen._ I kept my tone respectful but painstakingly short of subservient.

My chosen name for the serpent was actually a combination of Apophis and Mehen, two snakes of great significance to Egyptian mythology. One was a demon of destruction and the other a protector that coiled around Ra’s ship as he traveled with the sun through the night. The duality of the name never failed to amuse her, as her own role in my life paralleled it remarkably.

_Little One. You’ve had a very trying day._

_Not my worst._

_No. Not by a long shot._ The _s_ was drawn into a sinister hiss that set my proverbial hackles up. Her massive forked tongue flickered through the slit at the front of her snout, curling backwards to brush gently across my form just to watch me not-squirm.

 _Stop that._ My will hardened between us and her amusement took a sharper edge.

_You suffer needlessly, Little One. Unleash your wrath upon those who dare misuse you. Make them understand what it means to defy an empress of the Tenth Realm._

Her words awoke something inside me. The instinctive part of me that glorified in bloodshed and subjugation of others. It took more effort than I would ever admit to force that part of myself back under control. The temptation a cloying sweetness that lay thick on my mind even as I fought back.

 _I am not like those who have come before. This is not my way. Will_ NEVER _be my way._

 _You’ll learn, Little One._ Apohen blinked slowly, the assurance in her voice stealing my breath. As if it would come to pass no matter what I did. _When the time comes, you’ll learn._

_Enough. The others await us._

_Let them wait._ The serpent’s tone was a haughty thing. Dismissive of our people. _What care have we for the insects crawling over this tree?_ _They are meant to serve us. Not we them._

 _And that’s where you’re wrong. Now take me to them._ I openly glared at her intentional hesitation.

 _Tender-heart._ She said it with the venom most people reserved for the word _bitch_.

I calmly let fly a double-fisted bird.

Apohen didn’t dignify my action with a response, instead lifting us up to the top most boughs were several thousand, multi-colored glowing fibers danced in a secret breeze. My people could never feel Apohen directly. She was just a deep menacing presence that echoed at the back of my own consciousness. I took great pains to keep her from reaching them. The past empresses who formed her had already done enough damage to my people. I’d be damned if I didn’t do everything in my power to keep them safe now.

Watching the visual before me of the swaying Yggdrasil I was struck by the beautiful intricacy of it. The other Angels had their own way of seeing the connect. Most were a great deal less complex. Of course, I was the only one left who had access to every living Angel who swore allegiance to my family. Most where connected to just their immediate family or clan members. My awareness was assaulted by the first wave of combined consciousness from my people. It was like the swell of a disorganized orchestra rising on a mighty crescendo. Breath-taking and just a little intimidating. Experience made it easier to let them wash over me with the force of a tsunami, swirling around and fighting to swallow every last speck of my identity so they could have some part of me to call their own. I didn’t begrudge them the instinctive frenzy. The connection between empress and Angels had been tailored since the dawn of our race to breed absolute loyalty, bordering on obsession, to the ruler. The thought process was if they lived to serve you, they would never betray you. The vulnerability it forced on them left me revolted to this day. Time, patience, and nurturing were my greatest weapons against their conditioning.

And I wielded them with the ruthlessness of an empress born to rule a race of mercenaries.

I rose to greet them with my own music. In my mind it was a clear, thrumming bell-like tone that cut through the discord and they changed instantly to harmonize with me. Our power built until it finally crested, leaving the connections bright with mutual love and strengthened by our contact. I gentled them slowly, working my way through the individual voices that clamored for my attention until I had soothed their need for my attention. Even if it was the briefest second, I made sure to acknowledge every mind that cried for me, to see to their needs as best I could. There was very little in this world I wouldn’t sacrifice for the good of my people. Time was a small gift to give.

Eventually most of the connections lost their intensity, the minds at the other end returning to whatever task my appearance had interrupted. I was left with a little over two dozen Angels from different clans vying for my attention. Which was rather odd. Usually I had at least fifty to a hundred I needed to wade through every time I initiated contact to the population. Something of my suspicions must have transferred across because the connections were suddenly tinged with concern. I tried to reassure them as best I could while forming a more conscious message to properly articulate my half-hidden thoughts.

_I was expecting more…_

_You are displeased?_ The strange overlapping of the Angels’ hive mind made the words slightly harder to decipher as a dozen accents were used at once. Still, their thoughts were laid bare to my scrutiny, which made the general question rather blatant.

_Not necessarily. Mostly curious…_

_Kali said your day had been emotionally taxing. It was her suggestion that we…decide ahead of time what required your immediate attention and what could be attended to at a later date._

Surprise, followed shortly by immense gratitude, flowed from me. It was no secret the clans refused to get along on principle. The old empresses enjoyed pitting them against each other purely for their own entertainment. That the clans had consciously gone out of their way to cooperate, even in this small fashion, was truly a gift from whatever deity they cared to name. I wrapped my power around them, bursting with pride as they preened at my obvious pleasure.

_Thank you. You anticipated my needs perfectly. Shall we begin?_

_As my empress wills._ Their collective mind rang with conviction and then settled into separate thoughts once more as the first mind pushed forward to gain my attention.

The first half of the meetings were simple contractural matters with deadlines coming up soon. I’d looked them over previously, so now it was a final check-in to see if the clients had tried to force through last minute concessions I disapproved of.Nothing seemed amiss, though an unknown organization had approached one of our better known personal security firms earlier today for a vague assignment here in D.C. The Angel in charge had declined the invitation. Rightly so too. There was almost no information about who we were supposed to guard or why.

 _Have you found anything about the organization?_ I asked as the Angel showed me her memories from the meeting. It was with a bespectacled bald man of indistinct decent in a fashionable suit that cost more than what most families made in a month. Judging by his movements, he wasn’t a fighter but he was used to being obeyed without question. He didn’t take my Angel’s refusal with good grace.

_No, empress. We have traced it back through no less than ten shell-companies at this time. We are still searching._

There was something else she wasn’t telling me. I waited patiently until she cracked under my scrutiny.

_He attempted to have me followed when I cut the meeting short._

_Just him?_

_A group of five human men total. I lost them in the backways. They didn’t see how I left._ Relief flooded me at her assurance. The last thing we needed was an unknown entity who was aware there were ordinary-looking people who had wings magically explode from their back.

_Good work. Keep tracking down information on them. I want to know if they are interested in us for the team’s known history or if this will lead to danger for the rest of our people._

_As my empress wills it._

We continued on to the last bit of clan business. These were mostly new pregnancies, betrothal announcements, and coming of age activities being planned for the coming months. It was the part I liked best; knowing my people were not only thriving financially but living full lives outside of our work. Carrying babies to term was difficult for any Angel, especially since there was only one male born to every one hundred females. This meant most Angel babies were a result of breeding with people who weren’t our exact biological match. Seventy percent of all pregnancies ended in miscarriages, with another twenty resulting in still-births. It worked better when the Angel had a bondmate to share the stress of the pregnancy with. Still, if the fetus couldn’t accept the magic from the mother, they had no chance of surviving. Not even my healing powers were enough to save them. I still made a point of visiting the expectant mothers whenever I could. They needed to be reassured of love in their trying time and I wasn’t about to abandon them when there was so much fear and doubt surrounding the situation.

Eventually my Angels bid their goodbyes, each connection dimming until it was merely a pleasant hum surrounding me. Until only one was left.

_My lady is pleased?_

Kali’s smug question greeted me and I didn’t bother to mute my satisfaction at her interference with the clans. She basked like a cat in the sun at my wordless praise.

_My life is now complete. I may follow the great winds to the Realms of Lasting Peace without regret._

_You die on me now and I will drag you back from the afterlife just so I can assign you latrine duty._

Kali snorted good-naturedly. _We have moved beyond latrines, if my lady has not noticed. Has your age begun to tax your memory so soon?_

 _Mind who you call old, you young whipper snapper._ I kept my tone light, unable to smother my delight at her humor. Even if it was at my expense. None of the Angels, let alone my Sentinels, could bring themselves to behave so casually with me. In fact, they all referred to me by my official title no matter how many times I complained about it. Kali’s easy friendship was a gift and I did my best to never take it for granted. _On a more serious note, what did we find out about the dog-fighting ring broken up this morning?_

 _Nothing good,_ Kali admitted, frustration coloring her connection. _The backers appear to be Senator Stern’s sons but their lawyer already has them released from custody and the case buried so deeply in legal proceedings it’ll be a miracle if it ever sees a court room. The detectives on the case are understandably frustrated but their hands are tied._

 _Sounds about right._ I did my best not to let my irritation seep through the connection to Kali. It wasn’t her fault the legal system here was so broken. _I suppose they are hanging the whole thing around the gamblers’ necks, aren’t they?_

 _At the moment._ Kali seemed to hesitate a moment, her tone growing more tentative. _Are you sure you don’t want them taken care of? By our people?_

Apohen stirred, roused by the promise of brutality. It made turning down Kali’s offer even more difficult. _No. That’s not our way. Not_ my _way. If I’m going to have someone killed, I won’t hide behind another’s hands. The blood will be on mine and mine alone._

_As my empress wills it._

_You disapprove?_ I felt her emotions flicker too quickly for me to pin down exactly what she felt in what order.

Kali considered my question for a long moment. _Not exactly. I know you have some very strong feelings about abusing your power. But your people are more than willing to serve whatever justice you decree without question. Some would even prefer it if you had a more…traditional approach to these situations._

She had no idea how right she was. Apohen delighted in Kali’s words.

_You are more than weapons to me. Regardless of how others might have treated my people, I will never betray the confidence placed in me. I have a responsibility to protect you all, even from myself._

_And you worry you don’t do enough for us,_ Kali teased gently. _There is no one more caring of their people in the Ten Realms. Every Angel knows this. You just need to believe it yourself more._

I could feel her pride at my words. Pride and confidence in me as her leader. I wanted to continue to be worthy of that. Desperately so.

Apohen was not pleased at losing Kali’s unintentional support. I carefully blocked that disapproval from reaching the young Sentinel’s connection.

 _Is there anything else you require from me tonight?_ Kali asked

I considered my request for a long moment, unsure if I really wanted to drag the Network into my squatter situation and then threw my mental hands in the air. Truthfully I needed information. Badly. I couldn’t help him if I didn’t know what I was up against and any information they could find about his past would shedd at least some light.

 _There was a man in my furniture warehouse near the business district,_ I explained, carefully not letting any memories brought up by the thought of him leak through. Judging by Kali’s mild disapproval, she could probably tell I wasn’t giving her the full story. But I didn’t need him showing up dead accidentally. That was probably the most optimistic of the outcomes I could think of off the top of my head if the Angels found out he’d laid hands on me. _Tall, athletically built with a metal prosthesis for his left arm. Very advanced. He’s a fighter of some kind. Ex-wetwork asset or special forces would be my best guess. Hygiene makes me think he’s been homeless for awhile._

 _Found another stray, have you?_ Kali’s amusement almost had me flushing. Apohen approved of the Sentinel’s mild admonishment, though that approval warred loudly with the serpent’s instinctive need to punish any perceived disrespect. _There’s not much I can go on with a description as vague as that one._

_Just…find out what you can, okay?_

_Is something wrong?_

_I don’t know…I just…he needs help. Now, not later. And probably as much as I can afford to spare._

_I’ll find whatever I can,_ Kali promised, serious once more. I felt tension ease away I hadn’t realized I’d let build. _I’ll check our intelligence contacts before my shift at the VA tomorrow. Someone has to know something._

 _Thanks, Kali._ I saw a familiar face flicker across her mind and couldn’t help my amusement. _So Sam brought a guest along with the flowers._

 _Edible fruit arrangement,_ she reminded me, pleased despite herself. It appeared her decision not to grow attached was proving difficult to stick by. _He also introduced me to Captain America when he stopped by._

_And what do you think of Rogers?_

_Too polite. I don’t think I’ve been “ma’amed” so much in my life._

I didn’t bother to hide my laughter. _Poor lad. All these modern women who aren’t use to men being gentlemen. I’m sure he means well._

 _I’m sure he does_.

Kali paused a moment, her connection entwining with a few other Sentinels’ as they traded information. I resisted the urge to attach my own consciousness to their connection. It would only slow down the flow of information and Kali would tell me if it was something urgent. Seconds later they separated and I could tell Kali didn’t like what had been reported.

_What’s wrong?_

_Director Fury of S.H.I.E.L.D. had his personal transport attacked a short while ago._

Apohen latched on to the news with predatory focus. Say what I would about her, she had damn good instincts when it came to some things. Mainly apocalyptic stuff. I’d learned long ago to pay attention when she did.

Kali didn’t notice the increased attention. _It appears the assailants were dressed in D.C. Metro Police and D.C. SWAT uniforms. Dispatch showed no records of any units in the area at the time of the attack._

_Where was it?_

_Near 17th Avenue, over by Roosevelt Bridge._

_That’s right in the middle of the damn city. How were there no units in that area during rush hour?_

_Just one of many questions to be answered. One of our Sentinels got a look at the wreck after emergency services arrived._

Kali’s mind turned grim as she passed along the memories from the other Sentinel. The burnt, bullet ridden black SUV startled me. It looked like both the front and rear bumpers had been used as battering rams. Repeatedly. It took a moment to realize there was something else very wrong about what I saw.

_Was the passenger’s door blown off?_

_According to eye-witnesses, a man with long brown hair dressed in black tactical gear ripped it off with his bare hands. After he blew it up with some strange disc launcher. They say he had goggles and a…muzzle on._

What the hell was going on?

 _Where is the director now?_ I demanded, already preparing to pull myself out of the deep mental space. Apohen rose without comment to carry me closer to physical awareness. I had a feeling she would not be returning to her customary slumber as readily as I would have liked. Nothing had changed in Sharon’s apartment and I breathed a slow sigh of relief. The skin beneath my choker was already beginning to itch. I pushed at the leather distractedly.

_Unknown. I’ll get someone on it right now. Agent Carter…?_

_I’ll update her personally. I’m at her apartment now._

_There is a team nearby ready to extract you if necessary._

_Negative. I want everyone available looking into this._

Kali was not pleased with my decision. But she also couldn’t fight me on it. _As my empress wills it. Please keep regular check-ins at least._

 _You have my word._ I cut our connection after sending one last wave of reassurance to my people. No need for them to know I was seriously concerned. Apohen settled just deep enough in my mind to keep from distracting me too much, a heavy presence that shouldn’t have been as comforting as it was. I might have decades’ of experience but Apohen had millennia’s worth and a hunter’s eye that had a knack for picking apart traps before I even noticed them.

A cursory check of my surroundings revealed Sharon wasn’t back in the apartment. I raided her personal armory hidden in the back of her closet to find her favorite gun: the FNX-45 Tactical pistol. It was brutally efficient and I’d never seen Sharon miss a shot with it. Her radio was gone though. As I stepped out the door, I could hear soft 1940s music floating from Rogers’ apartment. I paused a moment as I tried to remember if he’d had music playing when he left. Maybe I had missed him returning. Not bothering to lock the apartment behind me, I ran to the basement, bare feet flying silently down the creaky stairs with no thought to the broken bones in my right foot. I kept my awareness tucked tightly to my person, ready to spread out at a moment’s notice. My normal senses were much more acute than a regular human’s and by themselves were plenty of warning to keep me from exposing myself to any of the other tenants. Fortunately any sane person was asleep at the surprisingly late hour.

Sharon, dressed in soft pink pajamas, started as I burst into the basement.“Mercy, what—“

Glancing around the room, I made sure we were alone before I passed her the pistol, cutting off her startled question. “Director Fury was attacked a few hours ago,” I explained hurriedly. “The assailants were dressed as D.C. Metro police officers and SWAT. They also had enough pull to make sure the real cops didn’t show up until well after the attack was complete. Fury is MIA.”

“Oh my God…” Sharon went pale as she dropped her basket of mostly folded clothes to the ground. “The captain came back just a few minutes ago. Is Rogers…?”

“Fine as far as I can tell,” I said. “Can you think of anywhere the director might go?”

“He’ll disappear. It would be the safest thing to do. Deputy Director Hill would know where. She’s the only one he trusts completely.”

“Can you get in contact with her?”

“It wouldn’t do us any good,” Sharon explained. “Fury is the only one who knew I was assigned to guard Rogers. Hill will be in full defensive mode now. Nothing will get to the director through her.”

I swore quietly as I turned away from Sharon, fingers tapping against my lips as I considered our options. Finding the director on our own would take time. Which wasn’t something we had an abundance of if someone had launched so public an attack on the man who ran the world’s best funded intelligence agency. We’d have to think of something else.

Pain exploded through my mind and I stumbled with a cry against the wall, my hands reaching up to clutch at my head. The room around me disappear, replaced instead by a clean, yet sparsely furnished apartment that had the exact same layout as Sharon’s. Rogers stood with his iconic shield in hand, facing an older, bald black man in a nondescript black turtleneck, sweater, and slacks. The black leather eyepatch confirmed it was the missing director. Three bullets ripped through his upper torso in a neat cluster as I stood helpless. His internal organs shredded as he arched in pain and crashed to the floor with a cry.

The death vision ended as abruptly as it started, leaving me panting desperately as Sharon called my name. It was one of the abilities I could trace back to my Valkyrie mother rather than my Angel father. And unless someone directly interfered, they always came to pass.

I shoved free of Sharon’s clutching hands and staggered back towards the stairs leading to her apartment. She trailed after, demanding to know what was going on.

“He’s here,” I gasped as we took the stairs two at a time. “Fury’s here. In Rogers’ apartment. He’s going to die.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Sharon, trust me! Fury is about to die! We have less than a minute!”

My friend quit arguing as we charged up the stairs. The only sound aside from our ragged breath was the sound of her cocking the pistol and thumbing the safety off. I pushed my awareness ahead of us, ignoring her familiar wheat-colored aura and the various other brown shades dotting the floors around us. It barely took a second to zero in on first Rogers’ unique physical signature, a vibrant pale yellow not unlike early morning sunshine, and then bouncing to the next closest aura. Fury was a much deeper mustard color, revealing his lesser potential for danger than Rogers. And judging by the raw aches echoing across my body, he wasn’t in good enough shape to take on a day old lamb. Cracked ribs, multiple shallow lacerations, corresponding contusions, a fracture running across both the left ulna and radius… It was amazing he’d made it all the way to the apartment complex.

 _Let go, Little One._ Apohen’s quiet voice startled me as we climbed, causing me to miss my footing and bang into the handrail. Sharon barely paused to check if I was okay as I righted myself.

_Not now, Apohen._

_You’ve seen the man’s death. Keeping your consciousness attached will only do more damage to you and will not be of assistance to him._

_I can’t help if I don’t know what happened._

_You can deduce that after the fact. Suffering with the victim is not a prerequisite to helping them._

_I don’t remember asking your opinion._

_Little idot._ The heavy presence slid deeper into my mind. I did my best to ignore her glower.

We had just reached the landing below the apartments when the familiar sounds of a silenced sniper rifle cut through the quiet. I stumbled when the bullets ripped through Fury, pain flooding my body as I kept the connection between us strong. Apohen’s disapproval was damn near tangible. I shoved her further back as I clamored unsteadily to my feet. At least one bullet passed close to his spine, damaging the column and collapsing his lung. Another shattered his collarbone and the lowest one put a hole through his liver. Pain sent his crumpled form directly into the ground with a loud _thump_. Sharon took one look at my face and forged ahead, making contact with the apartment door within fifteen seconds of the first bullet hitting. I staggered after her as I struggled to separate Fury’s pain from any real damage to my body. It took her just three strong kicks to break through the locks on Rogers’ door.

“Captain Rogers?” Sharon called, calm and professional as always in a crisis.

I couldn’t have been more proud of her if I wasn’t so concerned about the man bleeding out in the room beyond her.

“Captain, I’m Agent 13 of S.H.I.E.L.D. Special Service,” she explained quickly.

“Kate?” She cleared the room quickly before moving past the stunned super soldier.

“I’m assigned to protect you,” Sharon continued into the room.

“On whose order?” Rogers demanded, just a hint of his temper beginning to show. Sharon stopped short of where Fury lay, her breath freezing in her lungs at the sight of the director sprawled across the wooden floor.

“His,” Sharon whispered, kneeling beside Fury and checking his vitals. What little she found was not to her liking because she immediately pulled out her radio and began issuing orders into it. “Foxtrot is down, he’s unresponsive. I need EMTs.”

Fury was going to need more help than EMTs could offer. I slipped carefully into the apartment, my eyes flickering towards the windows to see if any movement beyond gave away the sniper. A silver flash caught my eye and I felt a wave of nausea that had nothing to do with the scent of agony permeating Rogers’ apartment. Maybe I was seeing things but I could swear there was a heavily built man standing on the roof of the building across the street. Pale street light glinting wickedly off a metal arm… I expanded my awareness instantly, disregarding the stirring apartment complex residents as I reached into the shadows where the shape was hidden. A familiar icy blue aura met my awareness and my worst fears were confirmed.

Gods above why was nothing in my life simple?

 _Nothing is simple for those with power._ Apohen sounded more disgruntled than anything, surprisingly enough.

I didn’t have a response so I just ripped my awareness back to the immediate room. Maybe it was cowardly but I couldn’t bring myself to face this latest complication right now. Later I would deal with its consequences. Right now I needed to focus on how best to help Fury survive without giving myself away entirely.

“Do we have a 20 on the shooter?” The S.H.I.E.L.D. dispatcher’s question cut through the tense silence.

Rogers glared towards the window, all business now that there were others to care for the director. “Tell him I’m in pursuit.”

Without another word the super soldier sprinted across the room, crashing through his window and then into the window of the building next door if the tell-tale explosion of glass was anything to go by. I couldn’t help but be impressed despite the seriousness of the situation.

Sharon stared after him in shock. “That had to be a forty foot jump.”

“Drool later,” I advised, kneeling to support the director’s head on my lap. His injured body cried out to me and I slammed a halt on my powers instinctive pull before it killed me. Or worse, exposed my abilities. “Get towels to press against his wounds until the EMTs arrive. I’ll do what I can.”

Sharon bolted for the kitchen as I cradled Fury’s face in my hands. His eyes flickered open, deeply suspicious even as his breath rattled sickeningly in his chest. “Director Fury, my name is Mercy,” I said gently. “I’m a friend of Sharon’s. Agent 13, I mean.”

He licked his lips weakly. “Mercy…”

“That’s right,” I encouraged. “You’ve been shot. I’m going to help however I can but I need you to rest now. Okay?”

“Mercy…”

“Yes, that’s me.” The way he kept repeating my name bothered me. He didn’t strike me as the kind who usually took this long to catch on. Then again he’d had a rough day. To put it mildly.

“You’re…Peggy’s…”

“Friend,” I supplied after a moment’s surprise. Though it wasn’t completely out of the ordinary that Sharon would have mentioned I was a friend of her aunt’s and public records showed our paths crossing at various charitable events. I vaguely remembered Sharon having to get permission for me to visit in the beginning.

The glare I received told me I was not being particularly helpful and he raised his voice significantly.

“Peggy Carter’s…Gryphon…”

I froze the same time Sharon did, the blonde crouching beside me with thick dish towels in her hands. The fact that the director of S.H.I.E.L.D. knew my old SSR codename was not a happy revelation for me. Peggy had promised any paperwork connecting me to the second World War had been appropriately disposed of. Apparently Fury had managed to circumvent her best efforts. Which would have been more impressive if it didn’t leave me spectacularly vulnerable to blackmail.

Apohen’s deepening disapproval did nothing to ease my sudden apprehension.

“Do your best to forget that, yeah?” I said faintly after a moment’s silence.

Fury’s eyes rolled back into his head as he passed out.

“I’ll take that as a ‘yes’,” I muttered, reaching for my power even as I spared a glance at Sharon. “No offense but this was not how I planned to spend our evening together.”

“Me either,” she admitted, using the towels to put pressure on Fury’s abdomen. “How does he know about you and Aunt Peggy’s history?”

“I’ll interrogate him about it later,” I said. “After we stop him from dying. Besides, I think we have bigger problems.”

“What is bigger than the director of S.H.I.E.L.D. being assassinated in Captain America’s apartment?” she demanded.

I swallowed hard. “I think the shooter was the squatter who roughed me up earlier.”

Sharon stared at me for a long moment before voicing both our thoughts. “Oh shit…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See! Two chapters as promised. I'm working hard on getting us where we need to be, promise! Thanks again for all your support!!


	5. Chapter 4: Best Friends

Exhaustion gnawed at me, the bone-deep kind that almost made you wish for death just so you could feel some peace. A tension headache had settled deep in the back of my skull. It throbbed in time with the _beeps_ from the monitors hooked up in the surgical theater in the next room over. Or maybe it was the mild concussion I’d deemed safe enough to absorb when the rest of the director’s injuries were far too ostentatious for me to risk taking from him. Either way the all-too familiar stench of pain and sorrow that permeated every inch of the hospital wasn’t doing my stomach any favors either. A team of doctors scrambled around Director Fury, desperately fighting to save his life. His faint mustard light flickered unsteadily towards orange amidst the forest of filemot in my mind. Not dead. Not yet at least. I’d done what I could for him. Though given my lack of strength before the assassination attempt and how little body fat I had due to my general apathy towards any sort of regular eating schedule, there was only so much I could feed to my metabolism before it started stealing from my muscles and organs. Besides, it would raise far too many questions if all his bullet holes suddenly disappeared. What help I had given left me well past my limit. My body was just short of turning into a carcass itself. The only thing that kept me from dozing off entirely was the constant itch squirming beneath my leather choker.

Captain Rogers hadn’t said two words to either Sharon or me since the EMTs brought us here. I guess my prediction from our previous conversation had turned out to be spot on. The musky scent of his fury permeated the room, mixing with the equally rank hurt and distress being given off by everyone else. Sharon had stopped trying after her second apology was met with stony silence and slipped into the adjoining hallway to keep local law enforcement at bay. I apparently fell into the category of ‘guilty by association’. Though to be honest I wasn’t particularly upset by that at the moment. It meant more time for me to figure out how I was going to explain letting an unknown assassin stay in my warehouse without contacting the proper authorities right away. It was not a conversation I was looking forward to in the slightest.

Though Rogers had deigned to greet the only other woman in the room with a brief nod when she arrived shortly after we did. Deputy Director Maria Hill was nothing and everything I would have expected from Fury’s righthand woman. She had an understated beauty that provided the perfect camouflage for the predatory intelligence I could see circling behind her deep umber eyes. While I might have been a couple inches shorter, I didn’t image that would stop her from attempting to eviscerate me with her will alone if she thought I was a threat to her mission. Every inch of her was professional, from the chocolate brown locks tamed by a practical bun at the back of her head to the navy blouse and slate-gray pencil skirt. The woman breathed ruthlessness and I was unsurprised at the golden aura radiating from her. Apohen approved of her on a strictly professional level. That didn’t stop the ancient predator from insisting Hill be neutralized as soon as possible. Apparently she was too much competition to be kept around.

I forcibly silenced Apohen after she brought it up a second time.

Two more men were hovering in the corners of the room, though I’d only gotten brief glimpses of their backs. One was obviously some type of field agent if I was reading the tactical gear covering his tall frame correctly. He was a couple of inches shorter than the captain and didn’t have the obvious super soldier build. That didn’t make him harmless by any stretch of the imagination, as proven by his rusty bronze aura. In my current state he could probably do some real damage before I subdued him. The only information I’d gleamed about him was a name: Rumlow. Rogers had muttered it in greeting when the man first entered the room. There was something like mutual respect between them but my gut didn’t trust the agent as far as I could throw him. Something about the way he none-too-casually eyed my vulnerable position at the back of the room when he thought I wasn’t looking made me want to break both of his knees on principle. A principle that my mental companion happily supported.

The second man was an expensive suit who spent the entire time frantically tapping at his smartphone. The warm claret aura that clung to him ordinarily wouldn’t have caused me to give him a second glance. No one in the room had acknowledged him and he’d kept his back to me the entire time. The only details I’d gleamed was his spectacular lack of hair and nondescript skin-tone. It made my skin prickle but without a closer look there was no way I could prove my growing suspicions.

Hill’s phone vibrated quietly and she stepped away from the glass to answer it, her voice terse. I didn’t envy whatever agent had been forced to disturbed her now. It did cause the suit to turn slightly and I subtly gave him a quick look-over. What I found left my stomach to drop somewhere behind my bladder. He was a dead-ringer for the man who tried to hire my Angels earlier. My thoughts raced along with my heart as I carefully shut my eyes, doing my best to not give away my sudden anxiety.

What in the hell had I gotten myself into?

_Kali?_ I called and instantly felt her mind latch on to my consciousness. The young Sentinel was not happy.

_Empress! Where have you been!?!_

_Long story,_ I told her with a heavy mental sigh as I ignored Apohen’s instinctive prickle at Kali’s tone. In my opinion the young Angel had ever right to be upset. _The Cliff Notes’ version is Director Fury was attacked in Captain Rogers’ apartment by an unnamed assailant._

_Unnamed?_ Kali repeated suspiciously. She was always good at picking out the important details. It was one of my favorite qualities about her. _Not unknown?_

_He’s the man I asked you to investigate earlier._

_Oh shit…_

I couldn’t help my weak amusement at her unfiltered thought. _That is the general consensus, yes. But we have a more immediate problem._

Kali vibrated like a bloodhound on a scent when I sent her a mental image of the suit standing not ten feet from me.

_Look familiar?_

_He’s the bastard that tried to follow our representative after we refused his contract._ Kali all but spat the curse.

_Exactly._

_Do you think it could be some sort of coincidence?_

_No. Not with the timing of everything. My guess is he is smack in the middle of this shit-storm._

Kali agreed and her thoughts turned stubborn. _I’m sending the Sentinels to extract you._

_No._ I allowed no room for argument and cracked down instantly when I felt her beginning to rally against me. Her will buckled beneath mine. I hated how easy it was to squash her resistance. Ordinarily I would try a more delicate approach but I didn’t have time for a long debate right now. _It’ll draw too much attention. Besides, I stand a better chance of learning something useful being close to him._

_Empress, you are alone in the middle of an enemy camp,_ Kali argued weakly. _Please, let us come get you._

_I said no._ I eased the pressure against her mind, softening my tone to show I understood her protest. That didn’t mean I would change my mind. _Besides, I’m not alone. I have Sharon for back up. And I’m hardly helpless._

_You’re not exactly in top shape either._

I allowed the shot. _I’ve survived worse. Right now our best bet is to try and get as much information as we can on the squatter and Glasses here._

_As my empress wills it._ Kali hesitated before pushing her consciousness against mine gently, almost shyly. _Please…please let us come get you if you are attacked. Before they can hurt you more._

I offered her what reassurance I could while still being honest. _I’ll keep you posted on my progress._

Apohen’s disapproval roiled in the back of my mind for several seconds after I cut contact with my distraught Sentinel. Eventually I grew annoyed enough I snapped, _What?_

_You are too lenient with them. Give them too much room to maneuver and eventually they’ll turn to bite the hand that feeds them._

_I trust them._ I struggled to keep my own irritation at bay as I tried to focus beyond Apohen’s persistent disapproval. _You don’t have to._

_You are a fool._

My patience finally snapped. _And you’re an asshole. Guess what? The world still goes round. Now can you shut up for five minutes so I can pay attention to the things that matter right now?_

Apohen’s presence stalked back to her usual resting place with the air of an offended cat. How that was even possible when I always envisioned her without legs was beyond me. But at this point I would take what peace I could get. Almost instantly the itch faded from under my choker.

I snapped my eyes open as swift but quiet movements slammed through the single entrance to the room. A delicate-looking woman with shoulder-length auburn hair crashed to a halt before the operating window. She wore form-fitting black pants that showed a remarkable amount of stretch and a black tank top beneath an olive green jacket. Unlike what her famous, or rather infamous, reputation might suggest, the Black Widow did not appear to fit the silvery aura radiating from her small form. In fact, Natasha Romanoff looked every inch the scared thirty-something year old she was as she stared desperately at the bloody mess that was Director Fury.

Her breathing shuddered quietly as she asked Rogers, “Is he gonna make it?”

The normally stalwart captain sounded like every one of his ninety-plus years was weighing heavily upon him. “I don’t know.”

A long moment of crushed silence hung between them. Romanoff seemed to use the time to regain some of her lost composure.

“Tell me about the shooter.”

“He’s fast. Strong.” Rogers shifted uneasily as he seemed to sort out the details of his brief encounter with the sniper. “Had a metal arm.”

Romanoff’s heart clenched painfully and she visibly shuddered. I focused all my attention on her as I realized she knew who the sniper was. And not just in a passing sort of fashion. She’d encountered him before.

It was a second’s work to reestablish my connection with Kali. The young Sentinel didn’t bother to hide her surprise but I gave her no time for an opening quip. _The Black Widow knows who our assassin is._

Kali latched on to that tidbit with determination of a bulldog, suddenly all business. _There’s a connection? Do we know anything else?_

_Whatever the encounter was, it was enough to traumatize one of the deadliest assassins on the planet,_ I said, my thoughts tumbling over each other in their eagerness to get out. _Go through every file we have available to us. Call in every favor across the globe. I want to know who the hell this man is. And I want to know it yesterday._

_It shall be done, my lady._

I refocused my attention on the room as Hill hung up her phone and rejoined the pair at the observation glass. She looked rattled. I decided after a moment’s consideration it didn’t suit her at all.

“Ballistics?” demanded Romanoff, her voice scratchy with poorly concealed fear.

Hill glanced at her briefly. No doubt in reaction to her tone. “Three slugs, no rifling. Completely untraceable.” The deputy director sounded defeated.

“Soviet-made,” Romanoff whispered as if to complete the report herself. That drew Hill’s full attention instantly.

“Yeah.”

Before their conversation could go any further, the monitors began shrieking and I refocused on Fury. His heart rate skyrocketed sharply as his body began to lose the fight against shock and the trauma inflicted on it. I sat up slowly, careful not to draw attention to myself as the room’s other occupants all converged on the glass at once.

“He’s in V-tach!” shouted one of the male nurses. Everyone in the theater scrambled to prep the appropriate machines.

“Crash cart coming in!”

“Nurse, help me with the drape,” demanded the doctor.

“BP’s dropping,” cautioned one of the nurses.

The doctor beckoned impatiently. “Defibrillator!”

All metal was removed from Fury’s body and the surgical drop folded hastily across his lap, leaving his open chest free to receive the paddles. I watched the proceedings carefully, keeping my other sense in play as well. If one of the doctors intentionally killed the director, it would be valuable information to share with Sharon later. It would also complicate matters past their current Gordian knot status.

The doctor was back to calling hasty orders. “I want you to charge him at 100.”

Romanoff gasped almost silently. “Don’t do this to me, Nick,” she begged softly. Hill and Rogers shifted on either side of her, both growing tenser with each passing second.

“Stand back.” The doctor rubbed the paddles together before placing them firmly on Fury’s torso. “Three, two, one. Clear.”

The electricity jolted Fury’s body and I felt the answering shock run through my system. I struggled not to let the hurt show. There were going to be enough awkward questions as it was. Seconds later Fury flatlined.

“Pulse?”

“No pulse.”

“Okay, 200, please.” The doctor placed the paddles against Fury’s chest once more. I sucked in a tight breath and braced myself as best I could. “Three, two, one. Clear!”

Fire blazed through my nerves and my jaws flexed against the agony. Gods above I hated my empathetic abilities some times. Even when they provided useful information.

“Get me epinephrine!” the doctor called. One of the nurses scurried away to a glass-fronted medicine cabinet. “Pulse?”

“Negative,” said another nurse. The doctor ignored the monitors and checked the vitals manually. I could tell he was weakening but Fury hadn’t given up yet.

“Don’t do this to me, Nick,” chanted Romanoff under her breath. “Don’t do this to me.”

A nurse appeared an instant later, the syringe full of medicine in his hand plunging directly into Fury’s neck. I waited for the tell-tale jolt to the heart that would follow the synthetic adrenaline hitting his system. As much fight as Fury still had in him, this would probably be just the ticket to get him up and running again.

The jolt never came.

Instead Fury’s heart slowed to a standstill, his aura deepening in color until it almost appeared black. Then his breathing dropped off and as far as I could tell from his body, he passed quietly on the table. Still something didn’t feel right. Usually when a person died, there was a particular finality to it I had trouble explaining but always knew when I felt it. Fury didn’t have that. I puzzled over it for a moment longer as the doctor called for time of death and then began filling out the appropriate paperwork. There was nothing more I could gain by staying here. Sharon had been gone for some time and I would feel better being the one to break the news to her than any of these strangers. S.H.I.E.L.D. was a lonely institution and I doubted anyone else here would be much of a friend to her this close to their grief.

As I stood to make my exit, Rogers spun away from the glass, his face raw with anguish at losing Fury. Our eyes met briefly as I paused to let him pass. Confusion, agony, and blossoming rage assaulted my mind. He was two milliseconds from snapping at the first target that kept his attention. I dropped my gaze, shifting my body language to make myself appear smaller and less of a threat. It probably wasn’t necessary since I felt no warning hum in my mind but given how both our days’ had gone, I was more inclined to error on the side of caution. A small eternity passed before the captain moved beyond me to stare out the small window leading to the hallway. I let out a sigh of relief I didn’t realize I was holding and slipped over to the door as unobtrusively as possible.

Once in the hallway, I instinctively used the window’s’ reflective properties to check behind me for any unwelcome company. On the other side of the glass I noticed Rogers fiddling with a small USB drive that had a S.H.I.E.L.D. emblem in the center of the body. Judging by the specks of blood on it, Fury probably gave it to him. Which meant if we could figure out what was on it we would be one step closer to untangling this mess. I felt a heavy gaze fasten on me and glanced up to meet Rogers’ sky blue eyes. They hardened to steel at my unmistakable interest. Without blinking I slowly reached up to make a zipping motion across my mouth. Surprise flickered across his face before confusion settled in its place. I winked in response. Then I headed down the hallway to where Sharon, looking slightly out of place amongst the sea of serious business attire in her blood-stained pink pajamas, was in deep discussion with some of her fellow S.H.I.E.LD. agents. It was time I brought her up to speed.

———————————————————————————————————————————————----------------------------

Unsurprisingly Sharon took the news of Fury’s apparent passing with poorly concealed sorrow. I’d managed to sneak us into an unoccupied bathroom and locked the door to keep from being surprised for at least a few minutes. I turned the fan on high for good measure. Hopefully that would be enough to keep prying ears at bay.

“I have maybe five minutes before someone comes looking for me,” Sharon warned me, barely containing her sniffle.

“They’ll have to wait,” I said without sympathy. “We’ve got bigger problems.”

Sharon sighed heavily, her right hand reaching up to pinch the bridge of her nose. “Of course we do. What happened now?”

“The agent that was in the observation room with Rogers and myself…who is he?”

“You’re going to have to be a little more specific than ‘agent’,” Sharon said with exaggerated patience. Obviously she was feeling the long night as much as I was. It would be highly inappropriate for me to grin at how much she sounded like Peggy just now.

I held a hand just above my head to demonstrate his height. “Bald. Glasses. Fancy suit.”

“That’s Jasper Sitwell,” Sharon explained, frown deepening. “He’s a high ranking officer whose been a part of some of S.H.I.E.L.D.’s biggest projects. The New Mexico investigation, the first helicarrier that housed Loki before his invasion of New York, the Blonsky incident. He was most recently rescued by Captain Rogers when the _Lemurian Star_ was taken hostage yesterday. He’s one of S.H.I.E.L.D.’s most decorated agents.”

“He also tried to hire one of the Network’s bodyguard teams to accompany an unknown subject to various unnamed locations in D.C. for an indeterminate amount of time less than twelve hours ago,” I said grimly. I’d been going over the memories shared by the Angel he met with while searching for a place we could talk. “When more information was requested, he not-so-subtly threatened our representative. And when she flat out told him no, he sent a team after her to ‘change’ her mind. Fortunately she was able to slip away without a confrontation. So I’m asking again, who is this man?”

“I don’t know him personally,” Sharon admitted, “but that doesn’t sound like the Agent Sitwell anyone ever described to me.”

“I was afraid of that.” I rubbed absently at the back of my neck. My tension headache was getting worse. “Is there any way to gather some more intelligence about him without putting you at risk?”

Sharon shook her head unhappily. “With things the way they are, I’ll be under a microscope for at least a month. Maybe three. I’m kinda surprised they haven’t removed me from the mission yet.”

“All fair points. What about Romanoff’s files?”

“Deputy Director Hill and Agent Barton would probably be the only ones with clearance to look at those,” she said, narrowing her gaze suspiciously. “Why?”

“Romanoff knew who the shooter was.”

“How can you be sure?”

I gave her a mildly exasperated look and Sharon rolled her eyes in response.

“Right, I keep forgetting. Living magic eight ball. You’ve got all the answers.”

“Not all,” I countered with a smirk. “But I have a pretty good chance of figuring out if someone is scared shitless of something. And when Hill gave the ballistics report Romanoff nearly came out of her skin. My first instinct is she’s gotten up close and personal with him. _Very_ personal.”

“Which would be in the reports that no one we know can get to,” Sharon said, following the natural path of my own conclusions.

“You don’t have any favors that high?”

“Not even close.” Sharon sighed heavily as I tried to conceal my disappointment. “The deputy director isn’t in any frame of mind to approach and last I heard Barton was on a deep cover mission in Asia somewhere. Sorry, Mercy. I’m just not much use right now.”

“Hey, none of that.” I gently pulled her into a hug and held her until I felt the tension work its way out of her shoulders. Fortunately we were both covered in blood so it wasn’t like our clothes could get any more ruined. Besides there was no way I was going to let her feel like she let me down. “We’re not past the point of salvaging this. The Network is searching for answers as we speak. They’ll hunt the world over before they stop. It’s only a matter of time before we catch a break.”

“Time is a luxury we don’t have.”

A heavy-handed knock interrupted my protest at her negativity. My best friend looked unbearably smug as she gestured in a classic ‘I told you so’ fashion when I pulled free to answer the door. I considered flipping her off in return but honestly I’d walked right into that one. Served me right for being so optimistic.

Unlocking the door and snapping it open just enough to fit my head, I raised an eyebrow as Rogers’ massive fist froze less than an inch from the bridge of my nose. Apparently the fan had done a good enough job to camouflage the bathroom so he hadn’t heard me answering his knock. Had his reflexes been a split-second slower I would have been nursing a broken nose along with a worse concussion. Which would have been par for the course for today as far as I was concerned.

“You know Captain, if you didn’t like the cookies, you could have just said,” I told him mildly as he hastily jerked his fist out of my personal space. “No need to get violent.”

“That’s not…I mean, I didn’t…that has nothing to do with…” The blond super soldier colored spectacularly as he stumbled over himself. Gods his awkwardness shouldn’t have been half as entertaining as I found it. I leaned against the door frame with my arms crossed loosely over my chest, stance intentionally casual as I kept the door cradled against my hip. The small gap kept Sharon tucked safely out of sight.

After a couple seconds of awkward silence I decided to take pity on him. Again. Apparently this was going to be a running theme with us. “My comfort for your sorrow, Captain Rogers,” I said gently and a fresh wave of hurt crashed over his handsome features. “I wish I could have done more to help the director.”

“I haven’t heard that expression before,” Rogers said. His hands fisted in his jacket pockets, leaving his shoulders curled in on himself as if waiting for the next blow to fall. I felt true sympathy wash over me for this poor man who kept losing those he cared for. It was a familiar position. “It sounds nice. Something else people came up with after the War, I presume?”

“Not exactly. It’s just not commonly used in these parts,” I said with a shrug. “My parents picked it up a long time ago from friends of theirs. I’d always been taken with the imagery of it. No competition with personal tragedy or overly-aggressive religious messages. Just an offering of comfort for the pain of another’s loss.”

“I’ll have to remember that.” Rogers looked away for a moment then back. He licked his lips nervously and I tilted my head slightly to let him know he had my undivided attention. “Look, could we…do you think it would be okay if I got you a cup of coffee? As a ‘thank you’ for earlier.”

“I’d definitely take a cup,” I said gratefully. “Just give me a minute to finish up here and I’ll join you.”

“Finish?”

Before I could dodge his question, Sharon pulled the door open to reveal herself, eyes deliberately neutral as she waited for the captain’s reaction. The change was profound. His blue eyes went cold and his face hardened into a disdainful mask. I didn’t have to glance at Sharon’s eyes to know how much that hurt. She’d grown up on Peggy’s stories about Captain America. About what a great man he was. How much the co-founder of S.H.I.E.L.D. loved him. To have him treat her like the enemy would break her heart.

“Oh.” Rogers turned his attention back to me, deliberately excluding Sharon. “Sorry to have intruded. I’ll be sure to keep my distance in the future.”

Glancing back at Sharon, I realized I’d missed whatever the shot was he’d taken at her but my best friend hadn’t. And judging by her carefully blank face, it had blown a hole right through the center of her chest. That was not going to go unanswered.

“The cafeteria downstairs in two minutes then?” I suggested, voice cyanide sweet. My temper burned hotly in defense of my friend. “I thought I saw a Starbucks there.”

Sharon shot me a glare. Undoubtedly she was doing her best to telepathically shout at me to mind my own damn business. She knew what my tone meant.

Unfortunately for him, Rogers wasn’t paying enough attention to sense what kind of bomb he’d unintentionally started the countdown on. “I’ll be there.”

“Good.” I waited for him to get just far enough down the crowded hall to justify raising my voice. While very studiously ignoring Sharon’s attempts to yank me back into the bathroom. "Oh and Captain Rogers?”

The other agents paused instinctively at the sound of his name, their attention the perfect stage for the rest of my temper to make its debut. The super soldier turned back towards me, eyebrows slowly raising.

“I suggest visiting the little boys’ room while you wait. Maybe then you can remove that stick from your ass and pull on your big boy panties so we can have an adult conversation. Sound good?”

Glaring openly at the mortified captain, I slammed the bathroom door shut on the ringing silence from our audience. I took a deep breath as Sharon moved beyond her slack-jawed rage.

“Have you lost your damn mind?!”

“Obviously,” I snapped, sarcasm dripping off my bared teeth. “I’ve been up for over forty-eight hours and had a man practically die in my arms. I’m emotionally vulnerable and felt attacked by the big scary super soldier’s tone. He should have been more considerate of my fragile state.”

“‘Fragile state’,” Sharon repeated in disbelief. “Mercy, you had no right to say those things to him.”

“Don’t you dare defend him!”

“You don’t get to tell me what to do. This is my _job_ you’re meddling with!”

“It is NOT your job to be his punching bag! I don’t care who died!”

Sharon stared at me for a long moment before she threw her hands up in the air with a frustrated groan. “If you get me fired, I swear to God…”

“You’ve got a sweet deal lined up with any part of the Network you choose. The benefits package is at least twenty percent higher than your current one. Guaranteed.”

“God, you’re an asshole sometimes.”

“Most times.” I agreed without hesitation. “Especially when other assholes are involved. That doesn’t mean I’m necessarily wrong.”

She gave a self deprecating chuckle. “That ‘asshole’ you publicly humiliated just found out the woman flirting with him for the last year has lied to him since the moment they met. I’d say his reaction is pretty justified.”

“You were an agent following orders,” I reminded her quietly. “He can’t be angry at someone for doing the exact same thing he does.”

“Does he?” Sharon stared off into the distance, her expression wounded. I ruthlessly smothered my instinct to wrap her up in another hug. It wasn’t what she needed right now. “Right and wrong always seemed to matter more to him in Aunt Peggy’s stories than following orders. I blew it, Mercy. Even trying to do everything right I still blew it.

“Just like you said I would.”

I didn’t even know where to begin with that.

A soft _ding_ drew our attention to Sharon’s right-hand pocket. I waited patiently for her to fish her phone out and thumb it on, the biometric lock recognizing her in less than a millisecond. The blinking message was surprisingly brief for being so bright red.

“I’ve been called into the Triskelion to give my report,” she said unnecessarily. I’d guessed as much the second the alert came on. “Directly to Secretary Pierce, it would seem.”

That sounded rather ominous. “Good news or bad?”

“He works directly with the World Security Council to oversee S.H.I.E.L.D. operations. At Director Fury’s personal request, if the rumors are to be believed. The man’s a legend.”

“Legends are lessons,” I quoted at her. We had an unhealthy attraction to movie quotes and they inevitably made it into our daily conversations. It was one of the ways we’d bonded when she was younger. “Hopefully his doesn’t turn out like Mor’du. A cautionary tale.”

Sharon snorted, apparently deciding she was done being mad at me. I never quite understood how she always managed to forgive me so easily. Then again, I couldn’t think of a time I’d ever really held anything against her for any length of time either.

“I’ve got just enough time to go home, shower, and change before I’m supposed to be in the office.”

“You’d better get going,” I said.

Sharon looked me over, mouth twisting to the side as she focused on the state of my clothes. I had to admit, they were kinda pitiful looking. What with all the bloody smears concentrated around my stomach and lap, it was like some serial killer’s poor impression of a Picasso. If my Angels saw me now they’d have a collective aneurysm on the spot. Judging by my best friend’s expression, she was thinking along the same lines.

“Do you want me to ask one of the other agents for a change of clothes?” she asked.

“I don’t want someone’s super-secret decoder ring ending up in my pocket so they can conveniently arrest me,” I said with a shake of my head. “Is there anyone here we can trust?”

A tiny smirk tugged at the corners of her mouth. “Oh, I can think of one. Go. You’re late for your coffee date.”

The very idea of the word ‘date’ had me pulling a face. “I realize I haven’t been on the scene for a few years, but I’m pretty sure you don’t spend dates trying to salvage bridges you intentionally, and very publicly, nuked to avenge another person’s hurt feelings.”

“You’d be surprised.” Sharon wrapped me in a quick hug. “Go. I’ll have the clothes brought to you in the cafeteria.”

“Sending a negotiator to make sure Rogers and I play nice together?” I only half-teased her as I headed out the bathroom door, keeping myself turned so I could read the smattering of expressions flickering over her face.

Her answering smile was alarmingly wolfish. Or it would have been alarming if I had a lick of sense. “A wise strategy always has multiple objectives met with the most efficient number of moves used. Namely, one.”

“You need to lay off the Governor’s chicken,” I said with a laugh. “You’re turning into a bad fortune cookie.”

“Go drink your diesel fuel,” Sharon urged me, making shooing motions with her hands.

I needed no further encouragement, my body dragging itself dutifully through the crowded halls towards the promised sustenance. There were more than a few muttered conversations that sprung up when the agents I passed assumed I was out of hearing range. I would have rolled my eyes if it wouldn’t reveal how much more acute my hearing was than their estimations. Fury’s and Rogers’ names were the most repeated things, though occasionally Romanoff’s made an appearance. Sharon was blessedly spared the current gossip mill. At least for the moment. They kept mentioning Moaning Myrtle and it didn’t dawn on me until I reached the edge of the cafeteria they were referring to me. Scrubbing a trembling hand over my face, I gave an amused shake of my head as I considered the appropriateness of the nickname.

A cautionary whine rose to the fore of my mind and I froze instinctively as I took more careful stock of my surroundings. The faint sound of a tactical boot scuffing on the linoleum less than six meters behind me sent a ripple of unease down my spine. An ordinary person never would have noticed so small a noise in a busy environment like this. Of course, they probably wouldn’t have understood what the predatory gaze on the back of their neck was either. To be fair to them, most ordinary people weren’t stalked as regularly as I was. Experience had taught me the only time a soldier moved that carefully through a semi-crowded area like this was when they were trying not to draw attention to themselves. Which meant whatever they were doing was not in someone’s best interest. Namely their prey’s.

It didn’t take a genius to guess who the target was.

Making a split second decision, I began walking the perimeter of the room at a deliberate speed, my back angled towards the wall so I could keep an eye on my tail. He was a new face. Obnoxiously tall, broad-framed with a horse-like face and neatly trimmed hair revealing a large forehead. His gaze was watchful while still maintaining professional detachment. An image that was not impacted at all by his five o’clock shadow. The black tactical gear he wore was an exact match for the other agent, Rumlow. Probably made them part of the same team. He stayed a careful distance behind me as we slowly circled the room and my suspicions grew in proportion to the warning in my mind. Glancing ahead, I saw another pair in matching tactical gear slowly rising from the table I was about to pass. Instantly I cut a weaving path between the conveniently sparsely populated tables in the center of the room, noting that all the available exits had at least one agent in tactical gear covering them.

At the back of my mind, Apohen watched the events unfold with growing displeasure at the vulnerable position I found myself in. If I cared to ask, I would almost guarantee she was dying to call me an idot again. Since I wasn’t entirely a masochist I did my best to ignore her. Though I couldn’t stop my fingers from pushing at my turtleneck in a mockery of scratching the annoying itch that started up the second Apohen made her presence known.

Standing directly in my path was Agent Rumlow. The man’s rugged face was split in a calculated smirk and I didn’t miss the way his gaze lingered on the growing bruise from my brush with the concrete earlier. Nor could I ignore the twisted pleasure I felt rolling through him when our gaze met. The sick bastard actually got off on the fact I was hurt. Or more likely, that someone hurt me. Disgusted crawled over my skin as I purposefully matched towards him, head raised in challenge. Amusement slithered though him and I was treated to a front-row seat as his arousal grew. I’d met his kind before. The disturbed beasts that took their greatest pleasure in breaking those around them for no other reason than to feed the monster of their own minds’ creation. I still bore the scars from those encounters. But I took comfort in knowing time would allow those scars to fade, while the ones who caused them were already turning to dust. If Rumlow wasn’t careful, he would follow in their footsteps.

A large hand closed around my right bicep, stopping me when I would have brushed past the agent without a word. I openly tensed as he leaned deeper into my space, using his wider frame to loom over me. I trailed my gaze disdainfully from the hand on my arm to his too-close face. It took every last shred of my quickly fraying self-control not to shove the offending appendage down his throat. See if he liked choking on things as much as he probably liked making others choke.

“You lost, girly?” Rumlow asked, his smoke and whiskey rough voice a good approximation of intimacy.

I didn’t even pretend at politeness. “No. I’m waiting for someone.”

“Why don’t I keep you company until then?”

“Not interested.”

“Now don’t be like that, girly,” Rumlow said. His grip tightened almost to the point of pain. “We could have fun.”

I raised an unimpressed eyebrow at him. “For the employee of an intelligence agency, you’re distinctly lacking in that department, aren’t you?”

The first betrayal of his temper flickered across his face. “What did you say?”

“I said no,” I reminded him flatly. “Emphatically and repeatedly, I might add.”

“You got a smart mouth on you, girly,” he said and yep, I was definitely going to be nursing a bruise where his hand was. “That’s gonna get you in trouble some day.”

“Better than where your raw mouth will get you,” I snarked. Rage filled his dark eyes at my implication and I braced for the hit I could see he was dying to deliver. Surprisingly enough, it never came.

“Is there a problem here?”

Rogers’ soft voice drowned both our tempers with the efficiency of an ice bucket. The warning whine stuttered out of existence instantly. Rumlow’s face smoothed over and he slowly backed away from me as Rogers brushed past him, eyes flickering from the agent’s face to mine as he paused beside me. One massive hand hovered just off my lower back, protective without actively invading my personal space. It was remarkable how big a difference his presence made. I let some of the tension I’d been holding slide free of me and I deliberately turned to face the troubled captain.

Apohen apparently decided the captain’s arrival meant I would live to fight another day. Her presence faded for good this time.

“No problem, Cap,” Rumlow said, giving the super soldier a quick salute before throwing me a parting smirk. “I’ll be seeing you around, girly.”

“Not if you know what’s good for you,” I muttered darkly after his swiftly retreating form. The look Rogers shot him was just shy of being openly suspicious. A quick glance around the room showed the other tactical agents had melted back into the crowd. For the first time since I’d entered the room I breathed a sigh of relief.

“I have to admit, I wasn’t sure you’d actually come,” Rogers said after a moment. His grief was still close to the surface, causing his voice to waver just a fraction. Guilt at our last encountered dug a home in the pit of my stomach as he carefully pulled his arm away. He had enough on his plate right now. It was time I started helping instead of making things more complicated.

First things first though.

I zeroed in on the tantalizing scent of freshly roasted _life_. “I’m not the kind of person to intentionally stand someone up, captain. Besides, you said the magic word.”

“Coffee?” he hazard with an attempt at a smirk, gesturing for me to lead the way towards the conveniently located Starbucks in the corner. I settled for keeping pace at his side as much as the scattered tables allowed.

“Brains as well as brawn, wrapped in the perfect Brooklyn-accented package. You must have to beat off the proposals with a stick.”

“I wouldn’t say that.” There was a distinct rosy tinge to his sculpted cheeks, not to mention more than a little confusion. It was easy to feed off the confidence his presence emanated. Made it simpler for me to realign my aura into something more peaceful than it had been for most of tonight. Which also meant my tongue wasn’t likely to stay as sharp.

“I’ll take your word for it, captain.” I let the conversation go for now, turning my attention to much more important matters. “So what’s my limit?”

“Limit?”

“I’m offering fair warning on this front. This is your one chance to mitigate the damage about to be done to your wallet. Because this is going to be the only fuel keeping me civil for the foreseeable future.”

“I suddenly feel like this is a terrible idea,” Rogers muttered behind me. I pretended to be absorbed in reading the brightly colored menu to give him time to back out. “What are you planning on getting?”

“Rocket fuel to raise the dead,” I said, my expression completely deadpanned.

Rogers stared at me in mild horror.

“Trust me. It’s better than the alternative.”

He didn’t look convinced but he made no further protest as he requested a tall black coffee from the starstruck barista. The bespectacled teen tripped over the order a half dozen times before he finally read it correctly. His more seasoned coworker was somewhere between sympathetic and exasperated as she handled actually making it. Which was probably wise since I had some real reservations about the cashier handling anything filled with scalding liquid as he fumbled with the touchscreen to ring up the order properly. Rogers just did his best to shrink in on himself, as if physically becoming smaller would mitigate some of the distraction his reputation caused. I felt another wave of mild affection for the super soldier.

“Is that everything for you?” the teenage barista asked timidly.

Rogers gestured for me to place my own order and I gave the kid an apologetic look before letting him have it. “Black venti with a double Dead Eye please.”

Both baristas and Rogers stared at me as if I’d grown a second head. The baristas because they were trying to figure out who the hell needed six shots of espresso in their giant-ass coffee and Rogers because…well it could be anything with Rogers. I’d have to see if he brought it up later or not.

Surprisingly the cashier was the first to find his voice. “Are you sure?”

I gave him a look. It was the same one I occasionally had to use on a particularly obnoxious Angel when I wanted to express the level of my displeasure with their behavior. He shrank in on himself instantly. Before my mouth could get involved his coworker nudged him none-too-gently in the ribs with her elbow. When the teen continued to sputter, she dropped a heavy hand on his shoulder and nodded at my clothes.

“That’s not paint on there, kid. Give the lady what she wants.”

A delicate shade of green crawled up the young barista’s face and I excused myself to inspect the nearby tables available before my presence tipped the delicate balance he was struggling to maintain with his stomach. There was one promising looking table conveniently located in a corner just far enough away from the Starbucks counter to discourage eavesdropping while still commanding a decent vantage point on the rest of the room. After a moment’s deliberation I left the more strategic of the two seats for Rogers and settled into the next best one, angling the cheap plastic chair so I could tilt it back on two legs. I balanced against the wall, my eyes closed as I forced myself to relax completely. It took effort to get myself into a more positive headspace and I deeply regretted not grabbing my iPod before leaving with the EMTs. Music would have been a welcome distraction from the unease coiling through my body. Which would partially explain why the S.H.I.E.L.D. agents so blatantly stalked me. Not to mention Rogers’ less than subtle championship of me against his own coworker. Better get a handle on this now before things came to a head.

The intoxicating scent of overly caffeinated nirvana preceded Rogers’ soft footsteps. I silently held out my hand and didn’t bother to open my eyes before I took a long hit. The burn shrieking through me at the first touch of liquid energy had nothing to do with the scalding temperature the coffee had been prepared at. The noise that worked its way out of my throat in response was nearly pornographic and judging by Rogers’ awkward shifting in the other chair he was fighting the urge to crawl under the table. Taking a more measured sip this time, I let my chair drop back down on to all four legs as I turned my undivided attention on the captain once more. His expression was appropriately scandalized.

“What exactly is in that thing?” The question seemed to pop out of his mouth without his consent.

I grinned wickedly in response before holding the cup out. “Some things in life can only be experienced. Not described.”

He took it with a dubious grimace. When I merely continued to watch him, the super soldier took a tiny sip and promptly gagged. I rescued my cup from his twitching hand with a peal of heartless laughter. The man quickly took a deep draft from his own drink.

“Light weight,” I teased mercilessly.

Rogers gave me an exasperated look. “You always get along this well with people?”

“I generally avoid people as a matter of principle,” I admitted, tilting my head back until I felt my spine realign with a sharp _snap_. Ah, much better. “They make my hair turn gray.”

The captain glanced to where my silvery locks wove into a messy plait at the back of my head and couldn’t muffle his amused snort. I offered a wane smile in returned.

“Is that how that happened.”

“Scout’s honor.” I raised my right hand in a traditional Boy Scout salute. My next statement was much more serious. “Though I do appreciate the rescue earlier.”

“You take an awful lot of looking after, don’t ya?”

“So I’ve been told.” I hesitated a moment before I looked directly at the captain, my face losing the humor our light banter had brought to it. “I’ve also been told I have a bad habit of hitting below the belt when I get mad. I owe you an apology for parading our personal disagreement in front of your coworkers. That was uncalled for and I’m sorry for any harm that might have done to your public image.”

“I notice you’re not apologizing for telling me to untwist my jockeys,” Rogers pointed out, though he didn’t seem to be upset over it. Merely stating an observation.

I shook my head and took another drink. “Nope. That I totally stand by. Regardless of what else happened today, Sharon was acting in accordance to the parameters of her mission. Assigned to her by Director Fury, I might add. She was your bodyguard, Rogers. Not your punching bag.”

The super soldier let out a frustrated breath and scrubbed a hand through his windswept blond hair.

“I’m not saying your feelings of betrayal aren’t understandable,” I said gently. “I’m just asking you to not take your frustration out on Sharon because she makes a convenient target. If you need someone to yell at, I’ll happily go a few rounds with you. Gods know I’ll at least fight back instead of silently taking it out of some weird, misguided professional courtesy.”

“I don’t think that’s necessary,” Rogers assured me, a frown tugging at his mouth as he searched my face carefully. Whatever he found there had him rubbing at the back of his neck this time. “You must care about Kate, er, Sharon a lot.”

“She’s my best friend,” I said simply. “What would you have done if someone took a cheap shot at yours?”

“Probably would’a decked them,” he admitted, a little Brooklyn sneaking into his voice. His expression turned suddenly wistful.

“See? I was practically a saint in comparison. Statues should be erected in my honor.”

“Bet your friend gets drug into a lot of fights ‘cause of you.”

“More like she jumps in after me and I do the same for her.”There was something unreadable in his expression and I felt my curiosity grow. “Something about that amuses you?”

“Just sounds familiar is all,” Rogers said and for a moment I thought that was the end of it.

It was only after another drink or two that he picked up where he left off.

“It used to drive him nuts,” Rogers said, voice pensive. “That I couldn’t just let things go. Couldn’t look the other way. Keep my nose clean, ya know?”

I kept my expression politely neutral as I sipped my coffee. There was a nervous energy to the way he was talking now. Like he _needed_ to get this out and I wasn’t about to interrupt as the air between us was saturated by acetic melancholy.

“Swear he must have picked me up out of every back alley in Brooklyn back in the day. He used to give me so much crap for getting involved but he was always there. Always had my back. First here and then in Europe. Only reason he stayed was to look after me. And I…” Rogers carefully un-flexed his fingers from where they were crushing the edge of the table. He stared fiercely at me. As if trying to impress his message into my soul. “Don’t do what I did. Don’t get your best friend killed over something stupid you drug them into. It ain’t worth it.”

Understanding clicked sharply into place. Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes, Rogers’ famous childhood friend and infamous casualty of a HYDRA extraction mission gone wrong. Barnes had fallen to his death after taking fire to protect Rogers from an armored HYDRA soldier. It was a black mark against my people’s honor that he’d died on a mission we retrieved the intelligence for. The train was only supposed to be carrying normal HYDRA personnel and minimal security. Ours had been a costly mistake. In more ways than one. The elite sniper had unintentionally won a debt of gratitude from us during the war for a previous act of valor and we’d never had a chance to properly repay it.

Which was definitely not something I could fix now. But maybe, maybe I could help Barnes’ friend past this gnawing guilt that lived in his heart. I doubt the fallen soldier would have wanted to see the captain in so much pain.

“That’s the interesting thing about best friends,” I said quietly and Rogers raised his head from where he’d hung it in shame. “There isn’t anything in the world they won’t do for each other. And if your friend loved you half as much as I love Sharon or she loves me, he never would have blamed you for what happened. He would have be proud to be part of the reason you’re still here today. So don’t throw his gift away by wallowing in your self-imposed misery.

“The best way to honor him and his memory is to live the best life you can with the time he helped buy you.”

Silence hung between us. Just when I was beginning to wonder if I’d overstepped my boundaries again, Rogers sat straighter and his face split into a wet smile. Tears clung to his thick eyelashes even after he scrubbed a hand over his face. The beginnings of contentment, honey-warm like freshly baked sweet rolls, slowly overtook the bitter scent waves rolling from him.

“You’re right. Bucky would have kicked my butt from here to Coney Island if he saw me like this.” The wistfulness was back on the captain’s face again as he reached out to rest one of his enormous hands over the top of mine. I’d bet a WWII war bond the man hadn’t even realized what he’d done. It seemed my aura was finally settling in. “He woulda loved to meet you.”

I offered a gentle smile as I returned his grip. If only the captain knew the depth of my honesty. “The honor would have been mine.”

The world allowed our hard-won peace for exactly thirty seconds before the distinct _clack-clack_ of heeled shoes on the linoleum drew both our gazes. Habit made me steal my hand back as I prepared to face whatever new threat was coming. Agent Hill cut a near straight line to us, an impressive feat considering how some of the tables had been forcibly clustered by the hospital’s other patrons. A professional-looking day bag hung unobtrusively at her side. There was no telling how she might react to my impromptu attack on the man beside me. The odds of me dying from a gunshot were lower than average but given the way the day had gone, I wasn’t going to take any chances. I shifted to face her fully, my gaze skittering across hers to get a brief taste of what I was facing. Beneath her professional mask, the deputy director felt raw, strung out, and about one straw away from the breaking point. I’d better be on my best behavior.

“Agent Hill.” Rogers nodded softly in greeting as the woman stopped beside our table.

“Captain,” she said briskly, her eyes targeting me instantly. “You must be Mercy.”

“Only to my friends,” I said with a shrug. I eyed her bag a moment longer before a terrible thought dawned on me. “Who apparently enjoy making my life interesting.”

“Agent 13 mentioned you were in need of new clothes.” I refused to shift under her piercing inspection. “I have some extras you can borrow if you want.”

I stalled a moment by taking a particularly large gulp of coffee. “Don’t take this the wrong way but…those clothes don’t come with any stipulations attached, right?”

“Not this time,” Hill told me, the faintest smirk tugging at her thin lips.

Rogers managed to look amused and offended at the same time. I gave him an apologetic shrug. No harm in checking.

“Agent 13 told me how you tried to help the director when he was hurt. That means your clothes are part of the investigation. If I don’t give you replacements now you’ll be stuck with whatever scrubs the hospital can scrounge up for you,” Agent Hill explained.

I pulled a face at that thought. “In that case, I gratefully accept.”

“I’ll escort you to the investigative team to make sure there are no misunderstandings.” Hill glanced over to Rogers, her eyes softening just a hair. “Romanoff is staying with the director…the director’s body until I can get the paperwork pushed through to release him to the funeral home. She’s in the morgue now.”

“I’ll keep her company,” Rogers said quickly, moving swiftly out of his seat.

I rose as well, my coffee clutched in my left hand like the lifeline it was. “Thanks for the coffee and I am sorry for. You know. Before.”

“Apology accepted,” he said and I think we both were a little surprised to discover he actually meant it. “Maybe I’ll see you around some time.”

“I’d like that,” I admitted.

The super soldier nodded once more before disappearing down the hallway with the corresponding sign for the morgue. I turned to see Hill watching me with rapt interest. It wasn’t a comfortable feeling in the slightest.

“Is there something wrong, agent?” I asked. It seemed like the best way to make her back off was to request more information. Unfortunately that particular theory didn’t seem to pan out.

“I’m sure we’ll find out soon enough,” she said with a pensive nod. “Agent 13 wanted me to tell you to make yourself comfortable once you changed clothes. It sounds like someone lost your statements and they’ll have to retake them for the investigation. With any luck, they’ll be able to do it here at the hospital. Otherwise, they’ll probably invite you back to the Triskelion.”

And straight into whatever trap they intended to lay. I sighed heavily and rubbed a hand over my face, exhaustion pulling at me anew. This was exactly _not_ what I wanted to have happen.

“Consider me warned, Agent Hill.”


	6. Chapter 5: Into the Vipers' Nest

I made it another half hour before my exhaustion finally got the better of me. Fortunately, one of the ER nurses took pity and allowed me to use an extra bed kept for when the ER was flooded with victims. Given the exponentially growing superhero-related disasters, I had to applaud their foresight. Hill disappeared shortly after confiscating my bloody clothes and shoes. Though not before extracting a promise from the nurse to wake me if any of the investigators came looking for my statement. The dark three-quarter sleeved blouse and business slacks weren’t the best fit but I wasn’t about to complain. At least they partially covered my injuries. Our feet hadn’t been close enough in size for me to borrow shoes but the nurse had given me a pair of socks with rubber grips on the bottom. They would do for now.

Oblivion came easily for once. I floated in endless waves of peace, my body preparing to knit the most serious injuries back together. It took the briefest thought to direct the main force of the healing to my broken foot, half mended wrist, and the bruised expanse of my back. They would be the most serious in a fight. Not to mention the others disappearing would raise far too many red flags. My power flowed gently over me like a vast river through desert landscape, sweeping away the broken bits and bringing life to everything it touched. What took ordinary people days or weeks was accomplished in a few short hours.

Very short, judging by the muted ache that still clung to me as my eyes blinked slowly open. An exploratory touch to my cheek and wrist showed the marks were still there, yet somewhat aged. That would have to do for now. I did notice my cheekbones were protruding more than usual, which meant I’d used up any fat reserves left in my body. A quick series of stretches and simple body weight exercises showed a noticeable drop in my natural strength. Great. My powers were starting to cannibalize my muscles for the necessary energy to heal my wounds. Now I needed to scrounge up food. Lots of it. Or suffer through some more protein shakes.

Raised voices could be heard in the hallway just outside the room. I took a moment to redo my braid and then twisted it up into a loose bun at the nape of my neck using my hair tie. Might as well get as prepared as I could before shit hit the fan again. Apohen’s presence was distinctly lacking this morning. Apparently she hadn’t felt the need to assert herself while I was sleeping. Good. That meant one less thing for me to deal with. Given all the fear and panic I’d experienced in the last few days, she was going to be restless and I’d probably have to go at least a few rounds with her during my next deep meditative session. My negative emotions always brought out the worst in her. Me too if I was going to be completely honest. I gave myself one last brush over to get rid of most of the wrinkles in my borrowed clothes before I went to meet whoever was raising such a racket.

A handful of familiar-looking S.H.I.E.L.D. field agents stood clustered around Agent Rumlow as he attempted to get past the kind nurse who had offered me the bed. Judging by the steady increase of aggression to his scent and the distinct lack of progress away from the nurses’ station where they were gathered, the conversation was not going the way Rumlow wanted. Part of me was touched at the generosity she showed a complete stranger. The rest of me wanted to get her away from the assholes who’d stalked me through the cafeteria as soon as possible.

“Good morning, gentlemen,” I said with no small amount of sarcasm dripping from my greeting. All eyes turned to me as I walked up beside the nurse, offering a distracted smile to my champion as I eyed our company critically. “Thanks again for letting me bunk here. I’ll take over if you want. I’d hate to disrupt your work any more than I already have.”

“It was no trouble, hun,” the nurse assured me. She eyed the men suspiciously. “I’d be happy to call a cab if you wanted me to.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Rumlow snapped. “Like I said before, we’ll arrange a transport for Miss Nilsen after we’ve taken her statement back at headquarters.”

So that’s what this was about.

“There’s no reason she can’t go home before she gets hauled across town for your interrogation,” the nurse shot back. “The poor thing doesn’t even have shoes!”

“We can carry her if she’s that delicate,” Rumlow said, tone all snark. The idea of enduring his touch almost made me physically ill.

Judging by the nurse’s loud scoff, she was not impressed by his suggestion either.

I kept my face neutral as I considered my options. There weren’t many. If I made a fuss, it would likely result in them to taking drastic measures. Like arresting me. Or I could voluntarily walk myself into whatever trap had been laid for me in the most secure building in the world. Both would undoubtably end in a fight. The biggest difference is a fight here would be too public to properly contain and likely result in collateral damage. Meeting Rumlow’s dark eyes, I sensed a rush of barely contained aggression just looking for an excuse to explode. So a _lot_ of collateral damage. Even so, having an excuse to force-feed him those pretty pearly whites was very tempting. Something of my thoughts must have come across my face because a familiar smirk stretched his chapped lips wide.

Decisions, decisions…

“There you are, Mercy.”

Captain America to rescue again it would seem.

“Good morning, captain,” I said, tearing my gaze away from Rumlow’s hungry stare as the super soldier appeared from behind me.

Rogers halted just in front of me and the nurse, body angled inconspicuously to shield us from the other agents. Some time during my nap he’d changed into dark navy body armor with stylized, white stripes and a single star across his broad chest. Fingerless gloves matched the dark brown leather of his utility belt and a back harness that carried his famous shield. Knee-high leather tactical boots made very little noise on the worn linoleum floor as the super soldier exchanged a polite nod with the suddenly docile team. His hands came to rest on the buckle of the utility belt, arms bent in some weird variation of parade rest.

“I thought we agreed I was ‘Just Steve’ now.” Rogers’ teasing tone was a little forced but I wasn’t about to undermine whatever message he was sending to the agents by pointing that out.

“Slip of the tongue. Sorry,” I said. “It’s the uniform. Makes you look very official.”

“A uniform doesn’t change the person underneath it.”

I didn’t bother to hide my fond half smile. “No. No, I guess it doesn’t.”

“We really need to get this show on the road, Cap,” Rumlow said. His face even managed to look apologetic. I still wouldn’t have trusted him as far as I could toss him in my current state. “They’re getting pretty impatient.”

“We’re going,” Rogers, no, _Steve_ assured him.

I took that as my cue to get rid of the nurse. “I’m in good hands now. Thanks again for the bed. I hope the rest of your shift gets quieter.”

“You take care now, hun,” the nurse said. She’d visibly relaxed when Steve walked up and even cracked a smile while we exchanged pleasantries. Apparently having Captain America around was enough to offset whatever protective instinct the other agents had tripped in her.

“Transport is this way,” Steve said, gesturing towards the nearest elevator. I fell into step beside him, neither of us commenting as the other agents surrounded us in a classic escort formation. Though I did notice Steve’s hand hovered protectively just off my lower back all the way to the black SUV waiting for us outside. Maybe it was the lack of rest but I couldn’t help appreciating the gesture. Or maybe I was getting sentimental in my old age.

The drive to S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters was blessedly uneventful, if lacking any of our previous companionable banter. Rumlow and another agent took the two front seats. I sat in the center of the bench seat in the second row, Steve on my left and the horse-faced agent from the cafeteria on my right. There’d been a tense moment when the agent first got in the vehicle with us. Whether intentionally or not, he crowded into my personal space as we were buckling up. I’d instinctively huddled into Steve’s side to escape the unwanted touch. In probably the least subtle move to date, the super soldier pretended to stretch and draped one muscular arm across the back of the bench, encircling me so the other agent had to press against the wall on the opposite side to avoid his long reach. The amusement I felt at the agent’s sour face helped offset my instinctive aversion to Steve’s own proximity. Much like my time with Sharon, knowing in my mind he wouldn’t hurt me didn’t stop my body from expecting the pain and reacting accordingly. Hopefully he wouldn’t take offense until I had a chance to explain.

As we passed through the beginnings of early morning D.C. traffic, I took the opportunity to touch base with Kali. Much to my _complete and utter surprise_ she wasn’t happy with my destination nor my company. I did my best to ignore her disapproval as I brought her up to speed on what little had transpired since we last spoke. Her report was just as concise. The Network was searching but nothing had come to fruition yet. Though the warehouse was completely deserted by the time they’d sent someone over to inspect it and whoever cleared it out not only took the backpack but the blanket as well. There was evidence of several people having swept the place before the Angel arrived some time after midnight but nothing that would pinpoint to exactly who it was. She promised to have more results the next time we spoke. As well as a full extraction team in place should things go south at the Triskelion. I couldn’t argue with her good sense so I just let the connection go after requesting she plan for a second person to be rescued with me. Whether that was going to be Sharon or Steve was honestly anyone’s guess. But odds were at least one was going to be running with me given how things had been going so far.

Apparently I’d been gone just long enough to skip the boring car ride, because when I came to Steve was opening the car door and offering a hand to help me step out into a mammoth-sized concrete garage stuffed full of every kind of vehicle imaginable. The number and variety of security checkpoints we were forced to go through to get beyond the garage leaned towards the absurd as far as I was concerned. Still, I followed docilely on Steve’s heels from room to room, answering the agents’ numerous, _repeated_ questions with as much patience as I could scrounge up. It didn’t help that a couple of the checkpoints were being manned by new recruits. Who did their best to complete their jobs quickly while remaining thorough. However once they got a look at Steve it was like their neatly lined up ducks turned into a hoard of squirrels at a rave. The last one got so bad it took a pointed comment by Horse-Face to finally get us past them to the main lobby.

“Remind me never to go anywhere in public with you again,” I grouched as I slung my special visitor’s lanyard around my neck. The marble floor was cold against my bare feet, warming only slightly in places where the sun shone through the glass ceiling. The hospital socks had been pitched two checkpoints ago after an unfortunate run-in with another rookie’s spilled coffee. Red as a tomato and practically crying, he’d frantically offered to find shoes even if they had to send someone to the store. It was only after I’d gentled him with a subtly placed hand on the back of his and the captain had reassured him as well that the rookie calmed enough to finish his inspection. Thus far I’d fielded another handful of requests from passing agents to rectify the situation. I must have been showing more anxiety than I thought if I was affecting that many people with so little interaction. Their genuine concern helped me smother the urge to deck the next unfortunate soul to point out I was walking around bare foot.

Steve shrugged apologetically. “They’re good kids. It just takes them a little time to, ya know. Get used to everything.”

“‘Everything’ being a living legend making small talk while they poke at tablets,” I pointed out as we headed deeper into one of the three glass and concrete monstrosities soaring above us. Most of Rumlow’s team had left us in the garage, called away on some other official business if them whispering into their communicators was any hint. Horse-Face and another much younger field agent trailed just far enough behind the captain and me to give the illusion of privacy.

“I’m not the only one that happens to,” Steve said indignantly. His fair cheeks were tinged hot pink with embarrassment. “There are plenty of other agents who have made a name for themselves that the new recruits look up to. And rightly so!”

“Ogle, Steve. The word you’re looking for is ogle.”

“That makes it sound so…so…”

“Honest?” I suggested mock-brightly, dodging to the side as a group of professionally dressed agents exited en mass from the corner elevator Steve had been leading me to.

“Crude,” he said, tone heavily exasperated as he half-glared at me.

I gave him a sly wink in return. “Welcome to the twenty-first century, soldier. Don’t think it’s just the men who openly drool over a fine specimen like a dog over a piece of meat.”

“How does your friend even put up with you?”

“Honestly? I have no idea. You’ll have to ask her yourself some time.”

He hesitated briefly, the hurt in his face swallowed quickly by anger. “Maybe not today.”

Apparently he still wasn’t ready to work through his feelings on Sharon’s seeming betrayal. Considering everything else going on, I figured I could cut him some slack on that front. “Maybe not today,” I conceded.

He seemed surprised when I didn’t pick up that particular argument where we’d left it undone in the wee hours this morning. Grateful certainly. But surprised nonetheless.

Before Steve could say anything else, Horse-Face pointedly cleared his throat. “Secretary Pierce wants you to head on up, Cap. He’s finishing up the other interview ahead of you.”

“Right,” Steve said. He glanced uncertainly at me.

“I’ll be fine as long as I find a coffee bar and a chair around here,” I said, trying to sound more cheerful than I actually felt.

“Actually, Secretary Pierce requested the captain bring you,” Horse-Face interjected. His expression was uncomfortably flat when Steve and I both turned to stare at him. “He wanted to take your statement personally.”

Because all high ranking officials liked to do grunt work involving complete strangers during a crisis. Right…

“We’re to report to Rumlow and the rest of the team for debriefing. Captain.” The agents gave Steve a quick salute before disappearing back down the hall. I stared after them, the sinking feeling in my stomach leaving me without much in the way of appetite. Or breath.

“No coffee for me then,” I muttered quietly.

“We’ll fix that afterwards,” Steve promised, his voice just as soft. He looked like a man whose whole world was turning on its head.

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” I said.

His sky blue eyes stormed over with barely concealed worry as he led me into the glass elevator. He gave our destination to a coolly voiced AI and shifted back into parade rest as I took up residence in the corner farthest from the doors. The strategic view of both the doors and the wide expanse beyond the thick glass walls did nothing to ease the tension hunching my shoulders. I knew a prison when I felt one. The sterile glass walls and steel beams may have been worlds apart from the dank, rough-hewn rock that filled my darkest memories but it didn’t change their function. We traded a long look, Steve searching and me trying not to give away the distress slithering down my spine, leaving a swath of prickles in its wake as the doors closed behind us.

Whatever he saw caused the super soldier to frown in concern. He moved deliberately across the elevator before he paused just an arm’s length away, one hand reaching up to hover over my injured cheek. My eyes flickered up and away like skittish rabbits, freezing instinctively on his cheek just beneath those troubled blues. There was no hostility I could make out in the quick peek I took at Steve’s emotional state. Mostly confusion, supplemented by wary curiosity, and a dawning wonder that was probably born of too much perception. My hands gripped the handrail at the small of my back like a lifeline as I endured his gentle exploration. His wide frame was perfectly positioned to shelter me from the security camera tucked into the corner by the doors. Eventually he shifted his grip to tilt my chin back and forth, comparing the uninjured side to the one with the harsh concrete-burn streaked across it. My jaw muscle spasmed against his fingers as I tightened my control over my fight or flight instincts. This would only get more complicated if I ended up kicking my only ally in who knew how many kilometers through the glass walls surrounding us.

“You look…different.”

It was amazing the sheer number of various meanings Steve managed to pack into a single word. I gave him what honesty I could without revealing too much to the prying ears that were most certainly skulking in the corners of the elevator.

“Different is…accurate,” I said. “Last night took a lot out of me. I haven’t had a chance to refuel properly yet.”

“I thought that’s what your concoction earlier was for.” His attempt at a smile died before it made it past a twitch of his lips. It was sweet though, that he tried to lighten the mood.

“Nope. That was simply for basic civility.”

“Seems to be short lived.”

I narrowed my eyes, unable to keep my amusement at his snark completely hidden. Who’d have guessed Mr. Too-Pure-to-be-Real-Man-with-a-Plan was such a sarcastic little shit. “That’s because we’re about to miss second breakfast,” I informed him with mock-seriousness. “And who knows if anyone in this joint knows about elevenses. I may very well starve before this is all over.”

“You’re starting to sound like a genuine hobbit,” Steve said. A true smile, brilliant in its intensity, split his face as he finally released me. He moved a step or two away to leaned both hands on the rail beside me, his face turned my way.

“I’ve been accused of that from time to time,” I said, using this new connection to distract from my darker emotions. Even with the current popularity driven by the first two films in the movie trilogy being released, not everyone would have caught my reference. “Tell me truly, were you introduced when _The Hobbit_ originally was published or did you discover it after you woke from the ice?”

“I read it within a week of it being published,” he said. A familiar wistfulness flooded the air between us as he looked over the landscape beyond the glass walls. “I was having trouble with my asthma again. But I didn’t want to take off work to go to the doctor. Figured it would just be more of the same. They couldn’t always help back then. Which made me feel like they were a waste of money. There wasn’t enough to go around in those days to justify wasting anything.”

I nodded quietly at that. Medicine had grown in mammoth leaps and bounds in past few decades in particular. Given the number of serious medical conditions Steve had faced and smack in the middle of the Great Depression no less, it was a miracle he’d survived as long as he had before the serum was introduced to his system. I had a feeling it was due in no small part to the efforts of one particular friend. The super soldier didn’t strike me as the type to remember his own health very well.

Steve’s eyes grew conspicuously wet as he went on, confirming my suspicions. “Bucky scrounged up the extra from God knows where. He was already working three jobs just so we could make ends meet. He used _The Hobbit_ to bribe me into staying in bed for the better part of a week. The rest helped. A lot. I didn’t get sick again for another month at least. Jerk was so dang proud of himself.” Another pained smile tugged at his sensitive mouth. “It was the only thing I took back from the Smithsonian’s exhibit when I woke up. Only thing I really had left of _home_.”

The raw hurt ringing in that single word had me reacting without thought, one hand peeling free from the handrail to cradle over the top of his as my aura blanketed him. There wasn’t much I could do for this type of wound. But I’d be damned if I didn’t offer what peace I could, regardless of the consequences. Steve scrubbed a the back of his free hand over his eyes, quickly growing bashful as I softened my gaze at him.

“Sorry. I don’t usually…” he trailed off, eyes fixed on our joined hands. “I haven’t talked this much about Bucky in…well, not since before…before they pulled me out of the ice.”

“Don’t feel bad,” I said gently. “I have this effect on a lot of people.”

“Must get awkward.”

“Sometimes,” I agreed. I tightened my hand minutely over his to pull his attention back to my face so he could read the honesty I let shine through. “But I like the idea of helping others. Even if it’s just by offering a sympathetic ear. There’s so much trouble and hurt in the world. It makes me feel like I’m doing my part to make up for that. Taking care of my own little corner, you know?

“Besides, stories honoring those who came before should never be apologized for. It helps us remember the good in the world worth fighting for.”

Steve stared at our joined hands before he hesitantly wrapped his thumb over the top of my fingers. We rode the rest of the way in silence, each wrapped in our own thoughts as we shared the journey. Eventually we arrived at the top floor and the doors opened with an unobtrusive electronic _bing_. It reminded me of water ripples for whatever reason. Steve pulled away with the barest of _thank you_ squeezes to my fingers. I followed the super soldier without comment as he led the way through a maze of narrow gray hallways. A calm professionalism settled over him, adding steel to his spine and a particular swaggering march to his step that most military personnel instinctively adopted when they were all business. I stretched my stride to match his movements, doing my best to duck into his shadow so I drew as little attention to myself as possible.

Surprisingly, we passed almost no one else on our way to Secretary Pierce’s office. After debating with myself for a moment, I spread my awareness to encompass the floor we were on as well as the one below us and the roof. There were no hidden teams of agents prowling in the shadows, waiting to ambush us at any given moment. Just a few healthy adults diligently working behind the closed doors we passed. I was almost disappointed by the lack of palpable danger. At least if there was an enemy I’d have something physical to rally against rather than sitting around with my thumb up my ass as I waited for the other shoe to drop.

A familiar presence caught my attention as I continued my sweep. I zeroed in on the soft wheat-colored aura Sharon carried around her person like armor. There were no new injuries to her, though the long night seemed to be catching up with her if her body’s sluggish feel was anything to go by. Beside her was an older gentleman, his dandelion-colored aura highly unusual for an average human male of his age. Most would have been closer to rust or cinnamon. There was nothing remarkable about him I could discern from here. That didn’t mean I couldn’t guess who he was.

Steve swept around the corner and if I hadn’t been as focused on him as I was, I never would have noticed the faint break in his stride when he caught sight of Sharon. My best friend was flawless in her charcoal business blazer and matching pencil skirt. The pale, pinstriped blouse added just enough contrast to keep the outfit interesting while still professional. Her rich gold and bronze waves rested on hunched shoulders as she finished her whispered conversation with the other man I’d sensed earlier.

Secretary Pierce’s three piece suit was a slate gray masterpiece specially tailored to sharpen the edges of his once powerful frame. A crisp white shirt offered the perfect backdrop to his blue and gray striped tie. Black plastic rimmed glasses accented his deep ocean eyes as he kept his attention trained on my best friend. Pale bronze hair styled in neatly trimmed waves and a clean-shaven, craggy face filled with laugh-lines made him the quintessential grandfatherly figure. The kind that inspired loyalty with a well-placed pat on the shoulder. None of which explained his exceptionally dangerous aura. Nor should it have drawn the harsh warning hiss from Apohen’s hiding place at the back of my mind. I didn’t question our instincts though. As I was learning more and more, monsters often noticed other monsters before anyone else.

This was not going to end well.

Sharon made polite excuses to the man who nodded amiably, his dark coffee cup stopping halfway to his lips as they both took in Steve’s and my approach. She ducked her head as they walked past each other.

“Captain Rogers.”

“Neighbor.” The super soldier didn’t even glance at her.

I swallowed my instinctive urge to slap him up the back side of his head. Instead I paused the same time Sharon did, accepting her quick hug with only the tiniest hesitation as her distress clogged my nose. Odds were Pierce already knew enough about our relationship to potentially make it dangerous for Sharon. I wasn’t about to snub her in front of the man as well.

Sharon’s arms tightened almost imperceptibly when I would have ordinarily pulled away in deference to being in her workplace. She buried her face into the crook of my neck, leaving her lips perfectly positioned by my ear.

“What are you doing here?” she breathed softly. Even Steve’s enhanced hearing shouldn’t have been able to catch her words.

I kept one eye on Pierce and Steve’s polite greeting as I answered just as quietly. “Giving my statement.”

Her hands tightened against my back. “They had ears in Rogers’ apartment. They didn’t get everything but they got enough to make one hell of a shit-storm for you.”

“Of course they did.”

Sharon pulled back, gaze flickering over my closed off expression and a small frown tugged at her mouth. Overcome with a sudden protective urge, I rested my forehead against hers in a display of intimacy I usually reserved for in her home or with my Angels. One of my hands curled around the nape of her neck and the other fitted itself on the back of her skull. It was probably stupid and would undoubtably bite me in the ass before the end of the day. Still, I couldn’t help sending a message to both men.

“Be safe,” I said as I drew back, my voice pitched to carry easily to the end of the hall. “If you need anything, you know how to find me.”

“Always looking after me, aren’t you?” Sharon asked rhetorically as she smiled.

“Always,” I promised.

My best friend sighed with strained amusement. She knew a message when I dropped it with the subtlety of an Acme anvil. Without another word she headed back the way we came, pausing only once to toss a glance back towards us before she slipped around the corner. I waited until her footsteps faded before I turned to find myself being scrutinized by both men. Steve was looking the faintest bit guilty after my little display. Pierce though…Pierce was warm and friendly, even as he considered me carefully. I must have made an interesting impression with my sleep mussed hair, wrong-fitting clothes, and bare feet as I stood defiantly with my hands on my hips in the middle of his kingdom.

“You must be Mercedes Nilsen,” Pierce said, holding his unoccupied hand out for me to shake.

I moved just close enough to accept his greeting without making my reluctance apparent. “You must be the famous Secretary Pierce.”

“Indeed I am,” he said. “Forgive my surprise, but you aren’t exactly what I was expecting.”

“I’m never what anyone expects,” I said with a sigh. When he didn’t release my hand right away, I pulled myself free with a deliberate flex of my grip. The man might have been a fighter once but he didn’t have the strength to hold me captive. It might not be a bad idea to impress that knowledge upon him right away.

“That’s quite a grip you’ve got there.”

I raised an eyebrow in response. “Side effect of working hard.”

“Then I guess you’ll fit right in around here,” Pierce said, sharing a smile with the captain. Steve’s response was a barely there polite twitch of his mouth. “Come on in. We’ve got a lot to discuss.”

“I’m not sure a civilian should be included in our meeting,” Steve said as diplomatically as possible. I tried to keep the hope from my eyes as I nodded agreement. “Undoubtably some of the information will be classified.”

“The captain has a point,” I said. “I don’t mind waiting in the hallway. I could even write down my statement while I wait if that would move things along for you.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about that,” Pierce said. A predatory smirk flickered across his face and the first warning ping zipped through my mind. “According to Nick’s file, you have a Level 7 security clearance.”

“Level 7?”

Steven’s gaze turned openly suspicious as I struggled with the confusion breaking out across my face.

“There must be some mistake,” I told them. “I don’t work for S.H.I.E.L.D. Hell, I’ve never even spoken to the director until I was begging him not to die in my arms this morning. How could I possibly have security clearance for anything?”

“I was hoping you could help me figure that out,” Pierce said. “Your file is, shall we say, sparse at best.”

Just imagining the information that was potentially available in the file made my stomach curl in on itself.

Pierce held his door open expectantly. “After you, Miss Nilsen.”

With Steve’s looming presence at my back, I was strategically herded towards a group of black leather couches and upholstered chairs in the center of the massive office. They were just passed a conference table that could fit twelve people comfortably. Countless files were scattered across the conference table as well as another smaller coffee table beside our destination. A high-tech board of some kind hung on the wall behind the couch, its surface ready for use but without any active tabs open at the moment. The room was much the same as the rest of the building. All ultra modern steel and concrete with a design pallet that didn’t stray far from industrial gray. The harsh lighting threw deep shadows across the marble beneath our feet. It made me a little nervous that some hidden spider hole would burst open and swallow me whole.

“Have a seat,” Pierce said, gesturing towards the comfortable looking upholstery as he began sorting through the files at the conference table. “There’s a file there you’ll probably be very interested in, captain.”

I tried to step aside to let Steve pass but the super soldier apparently wasn’t willing to let me so far out of his sphere of influence now that I’d become a potential threat again. He pointedly herded me to the far end of the couch where an open file with a photograph on top sat waiting. I curled into the corner by the arm without comment. My legs folded underneath me in what appeared to be a relaxed pose. Though in truth it would allow me some leverage if I needed to get off the couch in a hurry. Reading both men’s aura’s offered no further insight, so I tucked my awareness back where it came from and adjusted my position on the couch until I was as set as I was going to get. Steve said nothing as he watched me settle. His eyes never even left me as he removed his shield from his carry harness and sat it unobtrusively on the ground beside the couch within easy reach of the center cushion. Only after I quit moving did he turn his attention to the offered file, lifting the photograph up instead of sitting to examine it. I barely glanced at it before I turned my attention to the other ones sitting there. None of them were labeled so I couldn’t pinpoint which one was mine at a distance. I had to remind myself not to scratch at my choker as Apohen’s presence rose in response to my twinges of unease. Having another set of eyes couldn’t hurt right now so I didn’t bother pushing her back.

“That photo was taken five years after Nick and I met, when I was at State Department in Bogota,” Pierce said from across the room as he removed his jacket and slung it over the back of the chair at the far end of the table. “E.L.N rebels took the embassy, and security got me out, but the rebels took hostages.”

Having found the file he was searching for, Pierce made his way towards us, continuing with his story as he did.

“Nick was Deputy Chief of the S.H.I.E.L.D. station there and he comes to me with a plan. He wants to storm the building through the sewers. I said, ‘No, we’ll negotiate.’ Turned out, the E.L.N. didn’t negotiate, so they put out a kill order. They stormed the basement and what do they find?” Pierce answered his own question as he dropped the file in his hand, the loud slap of it hitting the table accentuating his point. “They find it empty.”

Both Steve and Pierce made themselves comfortable. The super soldier at my feet and Pierce in the chair on my other side. Being surrounded all the time was starting to do a real number of my frayed nerves.

“Nick had ignored my direct order,” Pierce went on to explain, “and carried out an unauthorized military operation on foreign soil, and saved the lives of a dozen political offers. Including my daughter.”

“So you gave him a promotion,” Steve said wryly.

“I’ve never had any cause to regret it,” Pierce confirmed.

The two men sat in contemplative silence for a long moment. Eventually Pierce broke it, his eyes flickering over the super soldier searchingly.

“Captain, why was Nick in your apartment last night?” he asked.

Steve glanced up and then away, grief fresh in his face as he shook his head slowly. “I don’t know.”

“Did you know it was bugged?”

“I did, because Nick told me,” Steve said, meeting the secretary’s eyes once more.

“Did he tell you he was the one who bugged it?”

Judging by the betrayed look on the super soldier’s face, that thought hadn’t occurred to him yet. Which was vaguely ridiculous as far as I was concerned. The late director breathed paranoia and had absolutely no sense of personal boundaries according to Sharon. We’d cleaned out her own apartment more than once when she was first assigned to watch over Steve. That she hadn’t gotten into trouble for it should have been a huge red flag looking back. Calling myself names now wasn’t going to fix past carelessness though.

Apohen was becoming increasingly restless as we turned our attention back to the conversation. It didn’t do anything to ease the anxiety curdling my stomach. Still, I did my best not to interrupt the proceedings. Neither of us wanted to be here a nano second longer than was necessary.

Pierce didn’t seem surprised by the captain’s ignorance on the matter. “I want you to see something.”

Steve and I both twisted in our seat as the smart board behind us clicked on at a touch of a button. A high quality video opened to reveal a close-up of a pale-skinned man in a dark tank-top. His face was covered in stubble and his hair was buzzed almost completely from existence. The room behind him was a nondescript cell that revealed very little about his location. Other than the fact I really didn’t want to be there. Two agents in black suits circled him, asking questions in forceful tones. An interrogation then. Oh goodie. Those were always so much fun to watch.

“Is that live?” Steve demanded. Judging by his tone, the captain knew the man and was not his biggest fan.

“Yeah,” confirmed Pierce. “They picked him up last night in a not-so-safe house in Algiers.”

“Are you saying he’s a suspect?” Steve sounded doubtful. “Assassination isn’t Batroc’s line of work.”

That name rang a bell but for the life of me I couldn’t remember why.

“No, no. It’s more complicated than that,” Pierce assured him. “Batroc was hired anonymously to attack the _Lemurian Star._ ”

 _That_ name I did remember. It was the name of the ship that bald agent, Sitwell, had been rescued from recently. Steve himself led the team that took out the pirates. Which is how he knew this Batroc. Who, now that I had some context to go along with the name, was a highly sought-after mercenary that had a taste for maximum casualties and outrageous demands. The personal security companies my Angels ran had gone up against him twice now. Each time they’d kept the client safe by the skin of their teeth and he’d managed to survive with the audacity of a cockroach. Usually at the expense of his team. My Angels took it as a personal insult that he still drew breath. I’d have to remember to update them on his status when I got a chance. I continued to listen without comment as Pierce laid out the facts for us.

“And he was contacted by email and paid by wire transfer. And then the money was run through _seventeen_ fictitious accounts.”

Steve and I both were surprised by that. Whoever was running the money had gone through _a lot_ of effort to keep themselves hidden. There weren’t many people in the world that paranoid. Suddenly I could see where this was heading. Steve definitely wasn’t going to like it.

“The last one was a holding company that was registered to a Jacob Veech,” said Pierce as he handed Steve the file he’d brought with him.

The captain sounded confused. “Am I supposed to know who that is?”

“Not likely. Veech died six years ago. His last address was 1435 Elmhurst Drive. When I first met Nick, his mother lived at 1437.”

Pierce let that sink in a moment as the captain glanced through the file. I didn’t bother trying to look at the papers tucked in there, choosing instead to keep my gaze fixed firmly on the secretary as he watched Steve struggle to the same conclusion we’d already reached. It certainly wasn’t because the captain was stupid. If I had to guess, it was because Steve wasn’t wired to betray anyone, in any way. He was honest to a fault and would have most likely marched up to whatever offending party was keeping secrets, demanding answers if none were volunteered. I was beginning to seriously wonder how he’d survived so long in the intelligence community. Someone had to be looking out for his well-being, that was for damn sure.

“Are you saying Fury hired the pirates?” Steve demanded. “Why?”

“The prevailing theory?” Pierce turned his eyes back towards the file, as if searching for answers even as he gave the ones he had. “Was that the hijacking was a cover for the acquisition and sale of classified intelligence. The sale went sour and led to Nick’s death.”

Steve looked like someone had sucker punched him. “If you really knew Nick Fury, you’d know that’s not true.”

“Why do you think we’re talking?”

It was obvious Pierce agreed with Steve’s assessment. The question then became what really was the cause for the director’s extremely loud and messy assassination.

The aged secretary rose from his chair to walk towards the massive windows taking up almost the entire length of one wall. Steve climbed to his feet as well, most likely out of old-fashioned good manners rather than any urge to follow the other man. I kept my place, wanting to simply be forgotten. Now more than ever.

“See, I took a seat on the Council not because I wanted to, but because Nick asked me to,” Pierce explained, leaning one arm against the spotless glass. “Because we were both realists. We knew that, despite all the diplomacy and the handshaking and the rhetoric, to build a really better world sometimes means having to tear the old one down.

“And that makes enemies.”

The captain and he shared a significant look for a long moment. Steve had shifted into his version of parade rest again, hands wrapped around the buckle of his utility belt and feet braced wide as if preparing for an attack. If we made it out of this damn place alive and if the super soldier was still willing to speak to me, we were going to have a long conversation about body language. More specifically, how not to telegraph your thoughts with it.

Pierce continued with his passionate monologue. “Those people that call you dirty because you got the guts to stick your hands in the mud and try to build something better. And the idea that those people could be happy today makes me really, really angry.”

Another moment of silence passed as Pierce seemed to consider his next sentence carefully.

“Captain, you were the last one to see Nick alive,” he said eventually. “I don’t think that’s an accident. And I don’t think you do, either.”

The super soldier stiffed faintly under the soft accusation growing in the other man’s voice.

“So, I’m gonna ask again. Why was he there?”

“He told me not to trust anyone,” Steve said. Tension screamed from every line in his body and it didn’t take a genius to realize he wasn’t being one hundred percent honest.

“I wonder if that included him,” Pierce mused aloud.

Fortunately the super soldier didn’t take the bait. “I’m sorry. Those were his last words.”

“Now that’s not quite true,” Pierce said, turning his sharp gaze on to me. “Is it, Miss Nilsen?”

I forcibly squashed my instinctive urge to squirm as both men stared at me with growing hostility. The trick here would be forcing Pierce to reveal his hand before I gave away more information than he already had. Not to mention I could get Sharon in a lot of trouble if our stories didn’t match up well enough. Better to tread lightly for now.

“You’ll have to be more specific than that,” I said, faking an apologetic tone. “It was a very stressful situation and I’m not sure I remember what Director Fury said exactly.”

“Maybe this will jog your memory.”

Pierce tapped something on his desk. Camouflaged speakers came alive with tinny 1940s era music, along with the sounds of people clattering loudly around on wooden surfaces. Voices filtered in and out of the noise as Sharon and I entered the apartment and Steve went out the window. Apparently the S.H.I.E.L.D. techs had only been able to enhance the playback so much. Fury’s decision to play music right on top of the bug was definitely working in our favor. Had the man not flatlined earlier, I might have considered owing him a personal debt.

_“—een shot. I’m going to help however I can but I need you to rest now. Okay?”_

_“Mercy…”_

_“Yes, that’s me.”_

_“You’re…Peggy’s…”_

_“Friend.”_

_“Peggy Carter’s…Gryphon…”_

Then again, maybe not.

Pierce paused the recording there, his gaze expectant as I quickly tried to calculate in my head how loud Sharon’s and my voices had been when we frantically discussed Fury’s inconvenient knowledge. Hopefully the harsh whispers I remembered were quiet enough to be drowned out by the big band’s swelling volume. Steve’s head swung back and forth between Pierce and me, his expression blank with shock. Though something like suspicious rage was quickly catching fire in the empty space left behind. I’d be lucky to make it out of the building with anything close to speaking terms between us.

“Well?” Steve demanded.

I gave him a carefully constructed mask of confusion and mild affront at his tone. “Well what?”

“If you have anything to say in your defense, now would be the time to do it,” Pierce advised.

“There’s nothing to defend against,” I told him flatly. “I’ve no idea why Director Fury would say that. I was just trying to keep him from dying and honestly I wasn’t paying attention to half of what came out of my mouth.”

That answer was not going to fly with either of them apparently. Steve dropped to the couch beside me and I couldn’t control my instinctive flinch away from his sudden proximity. The warning alarms began ringing sharply in my mind. There wasn’t much left in his face of the friendly gentleman I’d fed cookies to yesterday evening. It took everything ounce of control I had not to crawl over the back of the couch to get away from him. I viciously locked Apohen to the furthest back corners of my mind when she began to grow restless in response to my own agitation. Now was not the time to be distracted by my own monster.

“Back during the 1943-44 campaign against HYDRA, Peggy used to get intelligence from a source she referred to as ‘Gryphon’,” Steve said, his voice under tight control that fooled no one. “No matter what country we were in or how short the notice, Gryphon always got the information we needed the most to Peggy and never made contact with anyone else.”

My spine crawled at his words and I swallowed down the bile trying to escape my clenched stomach. He needed to shut up before he got us all detained for sure.

Pierce watched hungrily as Steve continued to unwittingly reveal more of my history with S.H.I.E.L.D.’s cofounder. “When anyone ever asked about it, she would just laugh and say it was her guardian angel. We were hard up for reliable intel and this source was almost never wrong. No one pushed for an explanation more than twice. Now Fury mentions it to you while he’s dying. He wouldn’t do that for no reason.”

“Did you consider the reason might be because he was delirious with pain and blood loss?” I asked. I did my best not to fidget under his unforgiving stare. “The mind is put under a lot of strain in times like that. There’s no telling what was actually going on in his head.”

“You told him you were Peggy’s friend,” Pierce said, switching battlegrounds. “Was that a lie?”

I didn’t bother hiding my glare. “There are lots of people named Peggy,” I said.

As soon as the words left my mouth I knew I’d made a mistake. The shriek blaring through my mind was my only warning before Steve’s hand snapped forward, latching painfully tight on my left wrist and dragging me forward almost into his lap. My injured flesh protested sharply as I instinctively jerked back. The small bones began grinding against each other loudly as the captain got right in my face.

“There’s only one Peggy Carter,” he snapped and I suddenly understood why so many Nazi soldiers had surrendered just at the sound of Captain America’s name. The blond Brooklyn native looked ready to rip my head off at the slightest notion I might be a threat to his friend. I would have been more pleased at the discovery of his championship for my old friend if it didn’t mean my wrist was most likely re-fracturing.

“Steve, you’re hurting me.”

“How do you know Peggy?”

“Let go of me. I swear this isn’t what it looks like.”

He grip tightened to the point of crushing and I swallowed down a cry of pain. “Stop lying!”

“I’m not!” I burst out. My free hand began frantically pulling at his fingers in a futile attempt to ease the strain on my injured wrist. “Peggy Carter used to attend wounded Veterans banquets a few years before she stepped out of the public light. We’ve done a handful of fundraisers together and met for the occasional lunch before she transferred to her nursing home. I haven’t seen her since. I swear!”

The honest answer, and it was honest enough since Peggy and I had attended many a fundraiser together, was enough to break through Steve’s anger. He released my wrist, face twisting with regret as I cradled it to my chest and slid as far back into couch corner as I could. The room was silent except for my quiet pants as I worked myself back from the edge of panic.

“God, Mercy. I…” The super soldier reached for me again but frozen when I jerked back.

“Don’t. Don’t touch me.” I sucked in a deep breath and let it out after a slow count to ten. “I know…I know how this looks. But I swear to you, I am not the enemy here.”

Steve and I exchanged a long look, one that let me see just how torn up he was by what he’d done to me. It made it easier for me to push down my fear.

“I don’t know why Director Fury called me that name. I just know I was more concerned about putting him at ease and keeping him alive until the EMTs got there than I was about whatever he was rambling on about. Please believe me. If I could help you with this I would. But I _can’t_.”

Steve nodded slowly and after a moment’s hesitation, slowly slid back along the cushions to give me more room. I gave him a grateful look before I turned my attention to Secretary Pierce. The man hadn’t moved at all during our confrontation. His face was borderline expressionless, yet one glance in his eyes revealed a maelstrom of emotions all vying for dominance. I doubted whatever won would be to my benefit. Suddenly I was exhausted all over again.

“Is the interrogation over yet?” I asked wearily. Steve flinched at my question, unable to meet my eyes when I glanced over instinctively to track his movement. “I’d like to go home.”

“I’m afraid there are still a few more things we need to discuss,” Pierce said. He didn’t bother to act like he was sorry at all.

I heaved a sigh and turned to face him fully. “Ask your questions.”

Pierce clicked the recording back on, watching me closely as it relayed the mostly staticky next part of the conversation. I tried not to breathe too loud a sigh of relief. At least I hadn’t unwittingly revealed Sharon’s connection to Peggy. That was one secret my best friend had kept from everyone in S.H.I.E.L.D., even her partners when she was assigned to field work. Pierce wandered over from the corner of his desk to stand behind me as the recording played through. With all the care of the mythical stork delivering babies in the old wive’s tale, he dropped a familiar black hiking backpack on to the couch between Steve and me. My skin crawled when Pierce’s hand gently pushed aside my hair to reveal the finger-shaped bruises at the back of my neck. The damning evidence echoed hollowly in the room around us as my own voice drew the connections for the other two men.

_“—think we have bigger problems.”_

_“What is bigger than the director of S.H.I.E.L.D. being assassinated in Captain America’s apartment?”_

_“I think the shooter was the squatter who roughed me up earlier.”_

_“Oh sh—“_

Pierce cut the recording short of Sharon’s explicative. Steve was watching me in open concern as his eyes flickered over my injuries. I couldn’t bare to see the growing pity following swiftly after his horror, so I turned my attention to the backpack, idly opening it to check the contents. Nothing was missing. Not even the food, which was very disconcerting given how hungry the man had been when I left. Maybe fear of poisoning from a random stranger had been too strong for him to push aside. The clothes were the most puzzling. They appeared to have been folded and resorted according to some specific order that I couldn’t quite discern. Someone had also folded the blanket and added it beneath the stack of clothing. Oddly enough I found myself hoping it was the squatter who’d made the addition rather than whatever S.H.I.E.L.D. investigator was sent to the warehouse.

“This was found earlier this morning in a warehouse you own down in the business district,” Pierce explained. “Inside is a card with your personal cell phone number on it. We also found evidence that confirmed the rooftop shooter had been on its premises. Probably for at least a day or two.”

My hair dropped back on the nape of my neck as Pierce made his way around to the seat he’d vacated earlier. He settled on the edge of the arm this time, the extra height forcing me to expose my throat as I titled my head back to face him. I stared blankly at him for a long moment as he crossed his arms.

When that failed to illicit a response, I heaved a sigh and prompted him as politely as I could. “Was there a question somewhere in there I missed that you wanted me to answer?”

“Can you think of any way this bag might have gotten into the shooter’s possession?”

“I gave it to him.”

Judging by the double blink that earned me from Pierce and Steve’s sharp inhale, that wasn’t the answer they were expecting.

“It’s a personal hygiene kit,” I explained, pulling the different pockets wider to reveal the bag’s contents to Steve when he leaned forward to take a closer look. I was careful to point out the fliers inside for different shelters and free Veterans’ counseling sessions, as well as the numerous protein bars. “I’ve got about five more just like it in the trunk of my car. I keep them in case I run across someone who needs them. Mostly homeless people and the like. When I saw the door busted but nothing missing or vandalized, I figured it was just another squatter trying to find some place safe to be. It’s not the first time it’s happened.”

“You always carry these packs with you?” Steve asked.

I nodded. “I know what it means to not have access to basic living necessities. Someone once helped me get back on my feet. Now I pay it forward when I can.”

“Why didn’t you call the police?”

“Most squatters are harmless, if a little…off. Usually it works better when I don’t get a crowd of armed hotheads in with an unstable individual.”

Pierce eyed my scraped cheek and I could feel the flush creeping over my face. “Obviously that wasn’t the case this time.”

Steve interrupted me before I had a chance to snark back.

“How did you survive?” the super soldier asked. “Most assassins don’t let people live when they stumble upon their hideout.”

“By trusting him.”

This obviously confused both men and I sighed as I stared down at my bruised arm, tracing the outline with trembling fingers. It took a moment to get my thoughts in some semblance of order.

“He told me I couldn’t look at him,” I said, glancing up at them both before turning my gaze to the backpack. It was easier to look at. Backpacks didn’t stare at you like you’d lost your mind. “That if I did, he’d have to kill me. So I, I shut my eyes.”

“You _shut_ your _eyes_?” Steve asked at the same time Pierce demanded, “He _talked_ to you?!”

“Yes,” I said to both. “Once he saw I was listening, that I wouldn’t go against his orders, he stopped trying to hurt me.”

“What happened then?” Steve was looking more and more befuddled. Whether by me or my squatter it was hard to tell.

“He threw me out of the warehouse and I drove to Sharon’s apartment. You know everything else that happened after that.” I shrugged half-heartedly.

“What language did he speak?”

Pierce’s question struck me as odd but I couldn’t see the point in lying. “Russian. Fluently.”

“You speak Russian?” Steve seemed dubiously impressed.

“I speak a lot of languages,” I told him flatly. “Comes from traveling so much for work.”

“And what work is that?”

“My official title? I’m a contractural conflict resolution specialist and asset manager,” I said. A more genuine smirk began creeping across my face. “Which means I’m the poor sap that gets called in to fix everything when assholes can’t get along.”

“Are you actually any good at your job?” Pierce interjected.

I gave him the most honest answer I could. “When I’m not emotionally compromised on no sleep, no food, and pain? Yeah, I actually am highly recommended in my field.”

Steve looked even guiltier as his eyes flickered to my wrist again.

“Why?” I asked Pierce mockingly. “You looking to hire?”

“S.H.I.E.L.D. is always on the lookout for people with strategic value,” the man assured me and before today I never would have thought someone could make the words _strategic value_ sound lewd. “There’s a lot of conflict to be resolved here. Not to mention assets that need looking after.”

“Yeah, I’ll have to pass on that,” I said, attempting to backpedal as politely as possible. “So far the experience has been a one out of ten stars for me. Definitely wouldn’t recommend to a friend.”

“Hasty decisions never pan out for anyone,” Pierce said softly. “Why don’t you take some time to think about it and get back to me later today.”

I’d have to be deaf and blind to miss the warning in those words, regardless of my sixth sense’s instant collaboration. Judging by Steve’s glance, he also was busy reading between the lines.

“Was there anything else the squatter said? Anything that might be useful to us?” Pierce asked and for a moment I was tempted to reveal how the squatter had carried me when I was hurt. But after getting a closer look at the unexplainable rage boiling in his mind yet hidden from his face I decided to keep the rest of my observations to myself.

“No. There’s nothing else I can think of that would be useful to you,” I said as I stared Pierce down. “Sorry I couldn’t be more help.”

Frustration colored the man’s face and for a heart stopping minute, I thought he might call me out. Then the moment passed and he was offering me that same warm smile he’d flashed around so often at the beginning of the meeting.

“That’s all right, Miss Nilsen,” Pierce assured me. “I’m sure we’ll find a way to put the information you gave us to good use.”

Judging by the quick glance from Steve, I wasn’t the only one who seemed to think his tone was uncomfortably sinister. Pierce stood up abruptly, grabbing the backpack from me, and making his way back over to the corner of his desk. He dropped the bag carelessly onto the empty expanse behind him before turning his searching gaze back to rest on me. His inspection drew another involuntary shiver from the core of my being that I ruthlessly smothered before it made it to my skin. We’d officially blown past all my reserves for civility and I desperately wanted to be home in my own bed.

Steve seemed to be thinking along the same lines.

“If there’s nothing else you need from Mercy, I’ll escort her back to the lobby for transport,” the captain said. I couldn’t quite smother my hope at his words. “Since she’s given her statement and all.”

“Actually, I’d prefer you take her to Operations Control,” Pierce said. “Agent Sitwell can give her some more…insight…into some potential job openings we have coming up soon.”

My heart plummeted at the carefully constructed phrase. There was no way this would end well for me. Even Steve didn’t seem to like the sounds of it.

“Sitwell, sir? He doesn’t usually do talent acquisition.”

“I’m having him work on a special project related to Nick’s death,” Pierce said, voice whiskey smooth yet it chilled me to the bone. “I think Miss Nilsen will prove to be an invaluable resource on that front. After all, as Agent 13’s best friend, it would give her a chance to see her more often. I think she might even be headed to Operations Control soon. It should make her convenient to locate.”

There was no mistaking that for anything other than a blatant threat. Unfortunately for me, it was an extremely effective one.

“I guess talking couldn’t hurt,” I muttered.

Pierce beamed at me. “That’s a good girl.”

My jaws flexed at the condescending tone but there was nothing I could do to retaliate. Time to retreat so I could find a quiet corner to lick my wounds. Or at the very least contact Kali so we could figure out how to spring me from this joint when things finally went sideways.

“If you’ll excuse us.” Steve stood abruptly, taking me with him as he headed for the exit. I didn’t even argue when he none-too-gently pushed me in front of him, the captain hoisting his shield back onto the magnet that held it in place on his back. Given my current choices I’d take him at my back over Secretary Pierce any day.

“Captain.”

Pierce’s voice drew us both up short, my fingertips lingering on the door handle even as I turned with Steve to see what the other man wanted.

“Somebody murdered my friend and I’m going to find out why,” Pierce said. His mind roared like a well-banked fire of bloodlust. Had he been one of my Angels I would have removed him from active duty instantly. Nothing good ever came from a mind like that. “Anyone gets in my way, they’re gonna regret it.

“Anyone.”

Steve considered the man for a long moment before he offered a simple nod in return. “Understood.”

Then we were leaving and I couldn’t get the door opened fast enough. Steve barely waited for us to make it around the corner before he tried to put a hand on my shoulder to slow my agitated pace. My own hand slapped his away before I even consciously considered the motion.

“Please don’t,” I said quietly, arms wrapping around my ribs as I moved to walk on the far side of the hallway. “I’m sorry. I just can’t right now.”

“That’s…it’s okay,” Steve said. His hand fell limply to his side. “I can understand why.”

 _No, you really can’t._ I almost said it aloud but then managed to smother the words before they worked their way past my numb lips.

“You don’t have to go if you don’t want,” Steve told me. “No one can force you to join.”

“You must not have been listening to the same conversation I was,” I said flatly. “I need to at least attempt to cooperate right now. That’ll help mitigate the backlash on Sharon when this goes tits up.”

“You sound like it’s guaranteed to fail right from the start.”

I snorted. “My life is a continuous chain of near-fatal disasters that are just barely resolved before the next one pops out of the snow like a goddamned daisy. Or haven’t you been paying attention for the last several hours?”

“Is the language really necessary?” Steve demanded and the sudden turn in our conversation caught me by surprise enough it took me a second to figure out what he was even talking about. I’d been swearing around the man since we met and he’d barely batted an eye. Why was it suddenly a problem?

“Really? You want to bitch about that, of all things, now?”

“No time like the present to turn over a new leaf.” He said that with an unnecessary amount of significance. I had to be missing something here.

“Hate to break it to you, Cap, but this is one war you aren’t going to win,” I told him wearily. We faced off in front of the closed elevator doors, hands on both our hips as we waited for it to return to our floor. “I suggest you give up on me. I’m a lost cause.”

“No.”

I stared at his slightly smirking expression for a long moment before I caved and met his gaze. His emotions were a jumble of hurt, confusion, and no small amount of frustration, clogging the air and confusing my senses. But shining through all of that was a tender concern and sneaky amusement I almost missed. Suddenly I understood. He was distracting me. From Pierce’s threats, from my upcoming meeting with Sitwell, and from our own fights that left me more bruised than I was this morning. He was trying to draw me out from the dark place my thoughts had been carrying me to since our escape. Much like I had with the easy banter shared between us earlier. It might have been silly, but my heart swelled at his attempt to mend the bridge between us. Apparently all wasn’t as lost as I’d thought it was.

I didn’t bother to hide my relieved chuckle. “Thing is, ‘poo-poo sticks’ and ‘donkey ditches’ just doesn’t have the same ring to it when expressing my level of irritation as ‘shit’ and ‘assholes’ does. But for your delicate sensibilities, I might be convinced supplement my vocabulary if certain, shall we say, stipulations are met.”

“Poo-poo sticks and donkey ditches?” A boyish grin snuck across his sensitive mouth at the playful expressions.

“You get what you get and you don’t throw a fit, Cap.”

“What are your terms exactly?” Steve asked amicably.

“Coffee would be a good place to start.”

“How about a late second breakfast pilfered from vending machines?”

My stomach gurgled loudly as we entered the newly arrived elevator. Our soft laughter echoed warmly in the unforgiving cold structure as we arranged ourselves against the far glass wall like we had earlier. “That works too.”

“Operations Control,” Steve told the AI and shrugged at my raised eye brow. “We can grab something before you meet with Sitwell.”

The wide grin breaking out across my face stuttered to a halt as a large hand clothed in fingerless, tactical gloves stopped the doors from closing. Rumlow entered with two more agents at his back. Agitated excitement rang through his mind as I met his unfriendly eyes and more hostile apprehension rose from his companions in waves. Alarm blared loudly in my mind, growing stronger as the elevator lowered smoothly to the next floor. I swallowed thickly before glancing up into Steve’s searching gaze.Looks like the trap was finally being sprung.

So much for my breakfast…


	7. Chapter 6: Tit for Tat

It was rather unfortunate that Kali tuned into my mental summons just as Steve’s and my bodies smashed into the glass ceiling above the main lobby.The super soldier’s enhanced frame took the brunt of the hit and again when we slammed onto the marble below in a spectacular shower of glass shards. His shield clanged hollowly beneath us as our combined momentum cracked the expensive stone. I rolled off his side with a groan, teeth gritting against the burn as dozens of shards burrowed into my unprotected feet and hands. Not to mention the ones I could feel clinging to my hair and clothes.

Gods above this place seemed to be actively trying to kill me.

_Empress?!?_

_Giimme a minute, Kali._

It was remarkable how much breathing could hurt. Steve’s own aches rocked through my body as I ran questioning fingers over his. Nothing was broken beyond repair but the man would have some impressive bruises for the next couple of days. I couldn’t afford to lose the muscle mass it would take to heal him at the moment.

 _I’m probably going to need that extraction right about now._ The young Sentinel was already contacting the team before I’d even organized my thoughts into a cohesive message. _Notify me of the pick up location as soon as I’m free from the Triskelion. Captain Rogers is with me._

_We’re coming for you, Empress._

Nothing like the imminent arrival of enraged semi-immortal mercenaries to warm a girl’s battered heart.

I struggled to my knees, reaching out to brush bloodied fingertips against my companion’s bruised jaw. The bastards that ambushed us in the elevator had done their best to take him down in the confined space. Brute strength, specialized industrial strength cattle prods that were apparently called taser rods, and advanced magnetic restraints had all taken their shot. They’d thrown everything except the kitchen sink at the man. Turns out not even ten assholes were enough to take on the super soldier. Steve had tried to shield me from most of the fighting and I’d only taken one or two hits from their taser rods before the agents turned their attention back to the captain. Judging by the amount of electricity I’d been hit with, an ordinary person would have been out after the second strike. In all the commotion no one noticed the electric shocks had as little effect on me as they did on Steve. They also hadn’t noticed the number of joints I’d shattered on the unconscious agents laying next to me. At least half of the people sent after us would be out of commission for weeks.

It probably said something bad when Apohen appreciated my response to the impromptu beating. Then again, it probably said something worse that the retaliation had been my idea and not hers.

“Still with me, Steve?”

“Yeah, yeah. Just need to…” He trailed off as he lurched to his feet, kind eyes widening in horror at the fresh bloody smears decorating my body. “Holy shit, Mercy.”

“What happened to poo-poo sticks?” I asked rhetorically. My weak attempt at humor did little to break his spell. I clambered to a painful vertical position, pushing the fresh waves of suffering aside as I ripped the visitor’s lanyard from around my neck. There weren’t any tactical agents swarming us yet but they wouldn’t be far behind. “We gotta go, Steve.”

“Your feet,” Steve protested.

“I’ve survived worse. Move it or lose it, soldier!”

Neither of us commented on the fact he immediately leapt in to action at my barked order. Nor the fact that I kept right right on his heels as he led the way back through the security checkpoints, an obvious trail of smeared bloody footprints surrounded by sprinkles of glass following our breakneck pace. It certainly wasn’t the fastest I’d ever run but it was well-beyond anything a normal human could sustain. Rogers matched it effortlessly, his gaze steadily shifting from surprise to thoughtful consideration. Fortunately he kept his thoughts to himself for the moment.

By some miracle we made it to a beast of a motorcycle that roared to life at a touch of Steve’s fingertips without being challenged by anyone. I clung to his waist as he screamed through the parking structure, tires squealing as we wove between other vehicles. He laid a trail of burnt rubber all the way to giant concrete bay doors that were just beginning to shut as we made our approach. I did my best not to panic when Steve ramped the motorcycle off the center divide between the entrance and the exit lanes of the garage. This wasn’t something I usually trusted a new acquaintance with but I suppose beggars can’t be choosers.

“We’ve got a problem,” Steve shouted over the roar of the bike’s engine as the tires find pavement once more. Before I can ask if the problem was the huge metal spiked barricade rising up at the guard post at the end of the bridge, the answer came screaming down over the top of us in the form of a S.H.I.E.L.D. quinjet. Just what we needed.

“This thing doesn’t come with rockets, does it?” I shouted back.

“Nope!”

Of course not. That would make things too easy.

“So what do we do?” My voice could just barely be heard over the pilot’s P.A. system demanding Steve’s surrender.

“I’ve got an idea. Hop off the bike and when I give the signal, make a break for the guard post,” Steve instructed me as he wove between the quinjet’s sudden rain of bullets. Apparently the pilot decided we weren’t listening well enough for his liking.

I shifted so my feet were gathered under me on what small portion of the seat Steve could spare me. It took some effort but I managed not to upset the bike’s delicate weaving pattern as I did.

“What’s the signal?” I demanded.

“You’ll know it when you see it,” he assured me grimly.

A sudden and inexplicable bad feeling settled in the pit of my stomach. There was something about the way he said that that raised all sorts of red flags.

“Jump!”

I leapt without question, tucking and rolling to take the worst of the momentum out of my hit. The road still bit painfully into my body, tearing at the flimsy office clothes that were my only protection. I definitely owed Agent Hill a new shirt when this was all over.

Steve punched the gas, driving straight at the quinjet where it hovered a meter or so off the bridge. Bullets continued slamming into the concrete around him. I sprang back to my feet, hopping the center barricade to put another layer of protection between myself and the erratic spray. As the super soldier got within scant meters of the quinjet, he flung his shield at it, unerring precision burying the shield deep into one of the turbines. As the pilot struggled to compensate for the sudden loss of altitude, Steve drove practically up the quinjet’s nose and locked up the motorcycle’s front brakes. The resulting flip lunched him right over the cockpit’s windshield. It was probably one of the most impressive displays of graceful athleticism and rash stupidity I’d ever seen.

Which meant it was probably the signal.

Sprinting at my current top speed for the barrier, I kept one eye on the super soldier as he continued to flip across the quinjet’s roof, barely managing to stay on top as he used his shield to inflict more damage to the rear jets. The man was a bonafide lunatic. The number of times he managed to rip himself out of harm’s way at the last possible instant was ridiculous. Shaking my head, I turned my attention back to the barricade in time to gather myself and hurtle it with an inhumanly long jump. My landing was shaky since the blood on my feet caused me to slip on the concrete. Another roll had me back upright and headed for the open road when a sudden shadow fell across me. I glanced up in time to see Steve catch his wayward shield in midair, curling around it like some misshapen turtle, only to stick a classic superhero landing with the finesse of an elite gymnast a couple meters ahead. He glanced back as he rose, eyeing the crashing quinjet critically as I sprinted past.

My hand snagged his, yanking him after me impatiently. “Has anyone ever told you your name should have been Captain Maniac?”

“What?” he demanded as he caught his stride, pulling even with me easily. “I told you I had a plan.”

“ _That_ was your plan? Throwing yourself at the giant flying machine gun and hitting it with your death frisbee?!?”

“It worked, didn’t it?”

“Yes, well done. The bad plane went boom. Gods above and they hailed you as some kind of master tactician. Had to be some PR bullshit!”

That got me an annoyed huff as he snapped his shield into place on his back.

We cut across the street, dodging cars as they slammed on their brakes and skidded sideways to avoid us. From the familiar sounds of metal crunching, there were at least a dozen fender benders we’d caused. I winced in sympathy as we cut through the scattering of trees that slowly gave way to more buildings. Just as we reached the edge of the grass, Steve used his grip on my hand to yank me unceremoniously into his arms. I tensed instantly, sputtering protests even as I clung to his shoulders for balance.

“Put me _down_!”

“You’re leaving a trail,” he said hotly. “I’d rather not make this any easier for them than it already will be.”

Unable to argue his logic, I settled with ill-humor into his grip, glaring openly at the offending appendages. Steve was right though. I could still see the blood dripping from my feet, knocked free by each jarring step as the captain made his way through every back alley he could find at super-human speeds. I ripped one of the blouse’s sleeves off and began wrapping it around my left foot. My movements threw Steve off-balance slightly.

“This isn’t as easy as it looks,” he chided, struggling to compensate for my movement as he barreled headlong around a corner. His breathing hardly showed any change. All hail the mighty super soldier serum.

“You didn’t want to leave a trail, remember,” I pointed out, repeating my actions with the next sleeve. “This is me fixing the leak.”

“Maybe warn a fella next time, yeah?”

Kali’s connection flared brightly in my mind and I held up a hand to forestall any further lecturing. “Anything you say, Cap.”

 _Still alive._ I sent a wave of reassurance to the entire team I could feel lurking at the edge of our connection.

_Not for any lack of trying, apparently._

I allowed the jab. It wasn’t like she was wrong.

 _If you continue on your current path for two blocks you’ll come to a large parking structure._ Kali shared a memory of a nondescript concrete mass that was in need of repairs yet still serviceable. it had multiple exits and no traffic signals nearby. Perfect for our uses. _We’re on the third floor. Northeast corner._

_Cameras?_

_Taken care of._

_The captain will need to get rid of his uniform._ The odds of S.H.I.E.L.D. not bugging his suit were nonexistent.

_That can be arranged. Our scouts say you will be here in under a minute._

It always impressed me how well my people were able to blend into their environment. Had I not been connected to them, there was a good possibility I would have missed them moving across the surrounding rooftops in a loose honor guard. I let them feel my pleasure at their good work. Unanimous delight echoed back.

_Let’s not overwhelm the captain if we can help it._

_We’ll make ourselves scarce,_ Kali assured me.

_Oh and you might want to put towels down wherever I’m supposed to sit._

_Towels?_

_Blood tends to be bad for upholstery._

Their delight instantly changed to outrage as I cut the connections to the tiniest threads possible. I didn’t feel like being bombarded by their aggression at the moment. There would be plenty of time for that later while I figured out how to handle this whole debacle.

“Mercy.”

Judging by Steve’s impatient tone, he’d obviously been trying to get my attention for a while now. I shook my head once to clear it.

“Sorry. Lost in my own head,” I said hurriedly.

My nonchalance could probably use some work. Judging by the narrow side-glance Steve sent my way, he obviously agreed.

“What was the question?” I tried instead and the super soldier huffed quietly before letting go of whatever accusation was on the tip of his tongue.

“I was _saying_ , we need to find some place safe to regroup. Find a change of clothes or something.”

“Way ahead of you,” I said, pointing to the parking structure rearing over the buildings before us. “Some friends of mine left us a care package on the third floor. Northeast corner. It should have just about everything we need.”

“Are they trustworthy?”

“More than yours.”

That shut him up for exactly two seconds. Then the suspicion set back in. “How did they know where to put it?”

“Predetermined arrangement, believe it or not,” I said grimly. “This isn’t the first time I’ve been on the run from a group of fanatical megalomaniacs I managed to piss off in a big way.”

Steve gave a snort. “I do find that difficult to believe. You seem to get along _so well_ with others.”

“Zip it, solider boy,” I mock-threatened, flicking him lightly on the nose. He wrinkled it in answer. “Mighty steeds are meant to be seen, not heard.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Steve’s drawl was all Brooklyn as he kicked it into another gear, leaping a barricade and whipping around the nearest stairwell like a coin spinning down a funnel. There was a team of eight Sentinels scattered throughout the levels, though they stayed completely hidden as we passed. I relaxed instinctively, content to let them keep an eye on things while I turned my attention to Steve’s and my needs. Seconds later he was skidding to a halt at the third floor landing. I glanced around before noticing a familiar grimy sedan tucked nearly into the corner across the parking lot. There was a thick steel support beam right above, perfect for hiding an aerial ambush. The familiar pale aura nestled above instantly put me at ease. Apparently Steve’s newly won status as an ally hadn’t granted him a private audience with me. Given his reaction in Pierce’s office to my relatively short status as a threat, I couldn’t say I minded having the backup handy. Just in case I’d made a mistake in my judgement.

Wouldn’t have been the first time, that’s for sure.

A thick, dark towel was folded across the sedan’s hood, the large med kit sitting unobtrusively beside it. Steve followed the direction of my gaze and headed over without any prompting. Though it did take a firm wiggle from me before he set me gently on my impromptu throne. I instantly dug out a pair of tweezers to remove the glass shards still embedded in my flesh. If they were left there too long, eventually my healing abilities would kick in and I’d be left with dozens of festering pockets that would need to be drained for days until the shards worked their way free. Not exactly high on my list of fun things to do again.

“Check the trunk of that sports car,” I said after Steve continued to watch me without speaking for another moment. I raised my head just long enough to indicate the car parked three spaces down on the other side of the lane with my chin before returning my attention to stalking glass.

“Why?” he asked even as he went over to inspect the orange testosterone booster I’d pointed out.

“Judging by the obnoxiously large wad of chewed gum by the keyhole, there’s probably something in there we need.” I winced slightly as a particularly jagged sliver burned its way out in what was probably its last display of defiance. “And if the position of the driver’s seat is any indication, it’s owned by a very tall individual who might be in possession of clothes you can change into.”

Steve arched an eyebrow as he jimmied the lock open and triumphantly lifted an eye-blinding yellow gym bag. Which, if his slightly wrinkled nose was anything to go by, probably carried more from the gym than its name. My face twisted with sympathy the captain didn’t see as he retreated around the other side of a large black Hummer to swap outfits. And maybe it was going to get stuck that way, because glass sucked and I was already sick of picking it out. I blew a ragged breath up through the wisps of hair tickling my cheeks.

“So do you ever plan on telling me how these friends of yours knew to have street clothes ready for me?” Steve called from his hiding place.

“Maybe if you’d gotten me breakfast like you promised,” I said, struggling to keep my tone light. “I don’t appreciate being led on. Least of all by someone who is supposed to be a gentleman.”

“This isn’t a joke, Mercy.” The frustrated super soldier appeared once more, stuffing his uniform into the bag and zipping it shut with more force than was strictly necessary. I worried a little the bag might come apart if he wasn’t careful.

“Do you see me laughing, Rogers?”

My tired voice drew his attention and he paused with the sports car’s trunk in hand, stormy eyes wandering over my face as I inspected the light gray sweats and navy zippered jacket he’d pilfered from the bag. Not too bad a fit, given how little my Angels had to go on. I’d have to remember to thank whoever found the car later. Personally.

I dug out a bottle of disinfectant, sterile gauze pads to shield the injuries, and wide, self-adhesive bandages from the kit. Once I got past this next shitty part, I’d need them. I sucked in a sharp breath against the burn as I poured the alcohol over my glass-free hands. Twenty-four hours. If I could go twenty-four freaking hours without hurting it would be a godsdamned miracle. Large, pale hands interrupted my brooding, lifting the bottle from my trembling grip and setting it aside for use later. I shot Steve a questioning look but received no verbal answer as he gently began wrapping the bandages around my injured hands. His shield leaned against the car’s front bumper at his feet. It was probably odd how much it reminded me of a faithful dog waiting at its master’s heel. Soon enough he’d finished with my hands and knelt to unwind the blood-soaked sleeves from my feet. I surrendered the tweezers with only the slightest hesitation at his insistent finger quirk.

“You know, if the superhero gig doesn’t pan out, you’d make a first-rate nurse,” I told him as I inspected his work. The bandages were snug but not painful, the wrappings textbook neat.

He merely grunted.

I openly frowned in reply. “The silent treatment, really?”

“I don’t appreciate constantly being mocked,” he snapped, his grip never wavering as he fished out each glass piece with the utmost care. “And I don’t like being lied to either.”

So we were back to that, were we? I’d have to get him past this once and for all. Otherwise we’d never gain any ground with all our bickering.

“But you do value loyalty, right?”

Steve paused in his work, confusion flickering across his face.

“The secrets you ask about aren’t mine to give,” I explained, letting him see my own frustration and weariness at the topic. “I have a duty to protect the people connected to those secrets and I’m not about to forsake it because someone throws a temper tantrum. Not even a national icon.”

I let that settle between us for a minute before I continued.

“And I’ve never lied to you. I just don’t always tell you how much I actually know.”

“A lie of omission is a lie all the same,” he said doggedly.

“That’s rich, given the fact you pointedly failed to mention that flash drive you were fiddling with at the hospital to Secretary Pierce.”

“That’s because I don’t trust him.”

We glowered at each other for a long moment before the captain returned his attention to my feet. It felt like there was only a couple of slivers left so I readied the disinfectant, surrendering it without a word when he held out his hand expectantly. I swallowed hard against the whine that threatened to worm its way past the knot in my throat as my feet burned with a fresh agony.

“Easy, almost done,” Steve murmured as he set the alcohol aside for the last time.

I couldn’t squash the muffled fondness I felt as I watched him wrap my feet with the same care and efficiency he’d shown with my hands. Most people would have tried to use my vulnerability to leverage more information. Or at the very least used the excuse to bring more pain since I wouldn’t cooperate. Steve did neither. Any way I looked at it, I owed the man. If not for his help escaping today then for failing in my duty to him and his best friend seventy years ago. That made my next choice simple enough.

Even if simple didn’t necessarily mean easy. Information tended to go down in value once you started sharing it.

“That should keep you for now,” Steve said, standing abruptly and repacking the med kit with brisk movements.

I slid further up the hood of the car, legs curling into my chest as I wrapped my arms snuggly around them. My chin was pillowed on my knees as I watched the captain until he broke and turned to face me once more.

“I think there’s a connection between Agent Sitwell, Secretary Pierce, and the squatter.”

My quiet statement was met with blank shock. I took the opportunity to lay out the evidence I’d accumulated before he could rally an argument.

“The friends I mentioned earlier—“

“The ones you won’t tell me about,” he clarified.

“The ones I _can’t_ tell you about,” I corrected, secretly pleased his tone was more resigned than combative. “They are part of a security firm that specializes in high-value targets for secure transportation and the like. They were approached by Agent Sitwell yesterday with a job to guard an unnamed package for an undisclosed period of time here in D.C. When they refused based on the lack of detailed information, Sitwell attempted to force their cooperation.”

“I can’t imagine that ended well,” Steve said.

My grin was more than a little feral at the thought. “It would have ended worse if his chosen goons managed to lay hands on my friend.”

Steve digested that without comment. “So what makes you think this has anything to do with the shooter?”

“The man in my warehouse had a black tactical bag,” I told him. “He also had on gloves, an advanced metal prothesis, and leather body armor. That’s not exactly conducive to a civilian lifestyle.”

“I thought you said you didn’t look at him.”

“I didn’t.”

“Than how do you know what he was wearing?”

“Because when I was blindly following him to the exit, I hurt my foot. He noticed me limping, so he picked me up and carried me to the door.”

Steve blinked twice. Which summed up my own confusion on the matter fairly accurately.

“And that bag Pierce dropped on me? I gave it to the squatter shortly before arriving at Sharon’s apartment. It was gone when my friends checked the warehouse.”

“When was that?”

“Shortly after midnight,” I said and Steve’s eyes narrowed to sapphire slits. I still spoke my conclusion aloud to drive the point home. “Pierce lied about when and where they found the backpack. If they even found it at all.”

“You think the shooter would have handed it over?” the super soldier asked with an arched eyebrow.

“I honestly don’t know what he might do. I’ve never met anyone like him before.”

The captain frowned thoughtfully, his arms crossing as he gazed across the parking structure. As if the answers we needed would just pop out of another car’s trunk. My thoughts turned to another part of this puzzle that didn’t make any sense to me.

“There’s no reason for Sitwell to hire outside security when he has S.H.I.E.L.D. resources readily available,” I mused, eyes drifting off to the distance. “Your field agents are some of the best trained fighters in the world. Not unless he needed to keep this completely separate from the organization.”

“And then there’s the matter of the shooter,” Steve said. The gears in his head were practically smoking as he moved to prop his hip on the car by my feet. “He was strong. As strong and fast as me.”

“With the skills to sink three shots directly through a moving target on the other side of a brick wall,” I added. “And to be completely anonymous? The intelligence community is too small to do that without a serious amount of effort.”

“Not to mention the timing of Nick’s…of his assassination.” Steve seemed to struggle with his raw hurt for a moment. I didn’t bother to curb my instinctive urge to rest one hand on his shoulder. There was no unnatural peace from my other abilities given how tired I was but I could tell he still appreciated the support. “This close to him hiring pirates to attack his own ship? This has gotta have something to do the information on the flash drive.”

“The flash drive come from the ship you rescued Sitwell from?” I asked, wanting to make sure I was following him correctly.

Steve nodded once, face growing pensive once more.

“What’s wrong?”

“Natasha was the sent on the rescue mission specifically to get that intelligence,” he explained. It took me a moment to connect the ordinary name back to the Black Widow. “Which Fury and she failed to mention until it jeopardized the whole darned thing.”

Obviously there was no small amount of bitterness there. I pressed on before the captain could fall any deeper into his brooding thoughts. “Did she happen to mention who the shooter was?”

“What?” My question successfully grabbed his attention.

“I was in the room, remember? I saw the way she reacted to the ballistics report, Steve,” I said gently. “Something about it spooked the hell out of her. Odds are she knows _something_ about him.”

We shared a long, unhappy look before Steve aired our joint conclusion in the silence between us.

“We need more information.”

“A lot more,” I agreed. I scrubbed a frustrated hand over my face. “Which we aren’t going to get sitting in this dirty parking garage.”

“So what do you suggest?”

“Divide and conquer.”

I fished around in the med kit’s front pocket before I found the spare burner phone that was standard in any of my Angel’s equipment bags. A quick glance found me the serial number. A moment’s notice was all my Sentinels needed to reach out to the support teams and acquire the corresponding number in case I needed to contact the super soldier. The battery was fully charged but separate to keep the device from being activated remotely. I held both items out to him and was more than a little pleased when he accepted them without hesitation.

“Speed dial one is my cell,” I said as I closed the bag up for the last time. “Number two will get you to someone trustworthy if I’m unavailable. She’ll make sure I get any information you care to pass along. I check messages on the fortieth minute of every hour. Unless I’m busy running for my life. Then I’ll get to it when I can.”

“Do I get to ask why your personal cell number is the first speed dial on a burner phone in a med kit that’s better stocked than some emergency rooms I’ve been in?” Steve asked wryly. It was truly impressive how much he noticed in such a short amount of time.

I grinned. “You can ask all you want.”

“Walked right into that one,” he muttered but the twitch in the corner of his mouth gave away his lack of true ire. “So what do you intend to do?”

“I’ve got a few sources that _might_ get me information on the shooter,” I said. “Key word being might. I’ll contact them once I’m bunkered down somewhere off the grid. If I hear anything useful I’ll get it to you ASAP. You?”

“I’ll pull on our only other lead,” Steve said. “Odds are something will tug back.”

“Just so long as it doesn’t manage to tug you into an early grave. I can think of a couple people right off the bat who’d be pissed about that.”

“Oh yeah?” He grinned a little at that as he hefted his shield once more.

“Yeah. Do you need me to arrange transportation?” I asked, eyeing the garish disc critically. I had no idea how he intended to hide the shield while traipsing around the city. But if he didn’t seem concerned, I supposed I should trust he was capable of going incognito. The man had to know something about stealth after all his missions behind enemy lines during World War II.

“I’ll be all right.” He eyed my wrapped hands and feet in return. “What about you? You okay to drive?”

“Oh, I won’t be the one driving,” I said dryly. The very suggestion of it had every single one of my Angels tensing in silent protest. Their blatant eavesdropping through shared consciousness was both annoying and created just the tiniest bubble of warmth in my chest that kept me from outright forbidding it.

“Who will?”

His answer came in the form of a heavy body slamming onto the roof behind me with a loud _bang_. Great. With my luck I’d probably be paying to have a gorilla-sized dent worked back out of the metal now. I controlled my instinctive flinch through sheer will. Showing weakness around predators was the fastest way to get attacked by them. I’d learned a long time ago to bury anything that might be misconstrued as fear when spending time with my people. Love me they might but their nature was that of the apex predator. Weak things got eaten by the strong.

Unfortunately Steve wasn’t quite as composed. He jumped nearly four meters back, shield snapping up as he landed in a defensive crouch. I offered him an apologetic shrug as a wave of amusement rolled through my Angels’ minds. My deep rumble of disapproval silenced them instantly.

Tilting my head straight back as I folded my arms across my chest, I arched a single brow as I stared down the wild emerald gaze flickering over my damaged face. The Sentinel looming over me was a thickly muscled woman who never failed to remind me of the bastardization of a punk rockstar and an Amazon warrior. Her bright shock of crimson hair was buzzed short on half her skull, leaving a cascade of natural waves to sweep past her chin and hide a pale blade scar that ran from the corner of her mouth to the top of her cheekbone. Artfully ripped black jeans, long-sleeved undershirt, and a well-broken in AC/DC shirt did nothing to hide the brute strength that rippled with her every move. Though I’d be the first to admit the spiked leather platform boots were overkill. Apparently she was amusing herself today by being a walking stereotype as well as intentionally frightening my new friend.

“That was very rude, Ida,” I said, studiously ignoring the uncomfortable stretch and vulnerability the position kept my throat in. Another power play that I found tedious, yet some of the older Angels insisted upon. If I had to guard against their possible strike, it meant I deemed them powerful enough to be competition. Leaving myself open stated loudly that I didn’t consider them enough of a threat to take seriously. “I thought I taught you better.”

“Apologies,” she purred thickly. She crouched to rest her forehead affectionately against mine for a brief moment. Then her wild gaze fixed itself on the startled captain “I was merely answering the man’s…amusing question.”

Most people thought her accent was Icelandic or Germanic. I knew it was an aftereffect of her time guarding my father when he was an ambassador to the Aesir. Old Norse might have died here on Midgard but Ida carried it like a torch to this day. The elder Sentinel bared her teeth in a wolfish grin and something in their shape made me wonder if she started filing them again. If she had, it wasn’t to an obvious degree this yet. Thank the gods. I was going to have to intervene soon unless she regained some level of self-control. Ida had been my father’s nurse/personal bodyguard before she was assigned to me at my birth. She’d handled the transition from the old ways to those introduced by my parents better than some elders once our people settled on this world. That didn’t mean she couldn’t go feral in her advanced age. It was a common problem among the more…volatile Angels.

“Steve, this is an old friend of mine, Ida.” I gestured to where the super soldier was carefully straightening from his crouch. “Ida, Captain Steven Rogers. A new friend.”

Ida must have caught the sharp edge to my mild rebuff. Her gaze flickered to me and then to my hands, which she stroked with the barely there pressure of a butterfly’s wing.

“We owe him a debt,” she whispered reverently.

“More than one,” I reminded her.

The Sentinel dipped her head once in acknowledgement before turning her attention to the captain. “In your time of need, know that you will have allies who stand with you. Whenever that might be.”

“Thanks…” Steve glanced at me hesitantly and I just gave him another shrug.

I didn’t even know where to begin with that.

“We should be moving,” Ida said after a long, awkward pause. “The vermin will be stalking the trail soon. You must be well away before that happens, _keisari_.”

Ida’s purposeful use of the Icelandic version of my title was a surprisingly thoughtful compromise. Because the thought of trying to explain to Steve why seemingly random strangers called me empress was almost enough to give me hives.

“Right.” I sighed heavily as the elder Sentinel began packing up the car to go. Steve hesitantly came closer, his sharp gaze tracking Ida’s movements with no small amount of trepidation.

“Are you going to be all right?” he asked softly.

I patted his shoulder fondly as Ida bared her teeth in what approximated a grin for her. “Don’t worry,” I said. “I have nothing to fear from her.”

He accepted my words with a dubious nod.

“I guess having someone like her around wouldn’t be so bad in case the shooter comes after you,” he said eventually and I flinched. The super soldier obviously misinterpreted my reaction because he hurried to continue. “I’m sure he’s not planning on it. There’s no way he could know you were in the apartment or anything. Besides, whoever hired him is more likely to send him after me than you—”

“Steve, about the shooter,” I began gently.

“You had no way of knowing what he would do,” Steve said firmly. “Don’t beat yourself up over staying quiet about him. We don’t know if you saying anything would have stopped him from attacking Fury or if it just would have gotten you killed.”

“That’s not it,” I said and the captain gave me a searching look. “Steve, he’s been tortured. Brutally and in the last couple days.”

“How can you possibly know that?”

Steve’s face had a familiar edge of suspicion to it and I couldn’t help my exasperated huff. Apparently I was going to be giving away more secrets today than I had in the last three decades. A rousing chorus of disapproval echoed through my mind. Which I studiously ignored.

“The same way I know Fury had a lacerated spinal column, cracked sternum, shattered collarbone, perforated liver, mild concussion, and a collapsed lung before the EMTs ever got to your apartment,” I told him, ignoring the shock as it detonated across his face. I continued on before my nerves got the better of me. “The same way I know you have a mostly healed bruise on your back from some sort of concussive force hitting you. Maybe yesterday or the day before. That your abdominal muscles are still cramping from the taser rods the men in the elevator used on you. That your shield left a three inch long strip of bruised skin on your left hip socket and a two inch matching one on the outside of your left knee. That a glass sliver buried beneath your hair scoured your scalp just light enough to not bleed and nicked your right pinky finger when you dusted it out. Do I need to go on or are you sufficiently freaked out enough to take me seriously yet?”

It took a long moment before Steve realized he’d unhinged his jaw. Pearly white teeth snapped back together with a loud _click_ in the strained silence that followed my outburst. I kept my suspiciously hot gaze fixed firmly on my feet as I waited for the captain to regain his ability to form cohesive sentences, unable to bare the thought of his continued suspicion. Or worse, fear.

“You’re some kind of empath, aren’t you?” His tone was remarkably calm and I glanced up to see nothing but sympathetic understanding shining from his eyes.

“I’m some kind of something,” I admitted with a shaky sigh as I dropped his gaze once more. “Nobody has come up with a term that succinctly explains all of my weirdness. Yet.”

“Is that why you keep so many secrets?” Steve asked and really, I couldn’t even be mad at him for not dropping the invasive line of questions. Not when I could see something in him responding to another odd duck. It was almost paternal. I couldn’t remember the last time anyone looked at me like that.

“I keep secrets because that’s the only way to be safe.”

“What do you mean?”

“Your experience is…unique. You’ve been named a hero. A national icon.” The words came slowly to me and I tried my best to arrange them into something that actually made sense without alienating the super soldier. “Most times, with people like us…people with extraordinary abilities, we don’t get to keep our freedom once others notice what we can do. We’re freaks. Expendable lab rats stuffed into a cage, where we can be poked and prodded to their hearts’ content. Until they break one bone too many or cut their incision just a little too deep. Then we’re swept under a rug and the next specimen is drug in kicking and screaming.”

“You sound like you’ve had a lot of experience with that sort of thing.” There was genuine sorrow in his eyes now.

“Well you know the old saying: what doesn’t kill you leaves you with crippling anxiety, a healthy dose of PTSD, and more trust issues than a Himalayan cat at the Crufts international dog show.”

Steve gave a short bark of a laugh and I couldn’t help my own faint grin.

“I don’t think that’s how they used to phrase it back in my day,” he said.

I shrugged. “Time is meant to improve on things.”

“Uh-huh.”

We shared another grin before getting back to business.

“So your fella got the short end of someone’s stick,” Steve said. “I can’t promise I’ll get the chance to go easy on him. There’s not a whole lot of opportunity to be gentle when someone is trying to kill you.”

“I don’t expect you to just roll over for him,” I said dryly. “And I’m not naive. I know there’s every chance he could be another psychopathic murder and totally had the beating coming. I just…just…try to avoid crossing paths with him if you can. At least until I figure out who he is or why he’s here.”

“Scout’s honor.”

I chuckled at Steve’s quick salute. “Thank you. For trusting me, I mean,” I said sincerely. “I know I don’t make it easy.”

“Never met any friend worth having who made life easy,” Steve said, clapping his free hand on my shoulder. It was a surprisingly warm, welcome weight. I patted his wrist affectionately before hopping off the hood. There was a brief moment where I was afraid my legs were going to give out but it passed before either of my companions had to intervene. Ida appeared without a word to whisk the towel into the back seat of the sedan, a mildly reproving glare reminding me we were on a time crunch and I was steadily using up her patience.

“Be safe out there, yeah?”

Steve gave a short nod. “You too. Try to get some rest while you’re at it.”

“There’s no rest for the wicked,” I quipped.

“She will be well cared for, Captain Rogers,” Ida cut in and I couldn’t help my eye-roll. “Of that you can be sure.”

 _Spoilsport_. My tone was fond despite my mild rebuke.

The elder Sentinel merely stared at me from her position by the rear passenger side door, waiting expectantly for me to quit lallygagging and get in. With a final nod to Steve, I climbed into the back seat, not even bothering with a seatbelt as I stretched myself across the soft towels piled up to protect the upholstery. Ida climbed into the driver’s seat without comment, starting the car and pulling from the parking spot slow enough not to draw undue attention but with a definitive sense of urgency to it. No words or thoughts passed between us as I settled into the first taste of real safety I’d felt since cookie baking yesterday. There was only a brief pause on the ground level to allow our last passenger entry into the front seat and then we were off, disappearing into the light mid-morning traffic.

A faint rustle from the front seat drew my attention and I slowly blinked open eyes I didn’t remember shutting. Kali inspected the contents of a brightly colored beach bag, her warm umber skin offset by the rich cream of tight khaki pants and a sunset orange sleeveless blouse tied just above her belly button. Thick, tightly curled hair was tamed by dozens of tight triangular box braids that were bound up in a high bun to keep it out of the way in a fight. Like most Angels, she avoided wearing large jewelry that could be easily grabbed and ripped from their bodies in a fight. So what she lacked in size she made up for in quantity. No less than a dozen studs marched up either side of her ears, ending in twin gold rings at the top of her ear in the cartilage. To the casual observer, we would have looked about the same age, even through the better part of a century lay more heavily upon me. She must have called in sick to work if she was here now. I’d have to check with her later to make sure I hadn’t gotten her in trouble with the VA administration. Kali’s friendly disposition and extraordinary ability to complete seemingly insurmountable tasks in a fraction of the time most teams took to tackle them went a long way in currying her favor. It still didn’t hurt to check. I wouldn’t want to appear as if I was taking her service for granted.

Liquid sloshing noisily in a massive travel mug drug me abruptly from my sluggish thoughts. It was pure instinct that allowed me to snatch it out of the air before the whole thing exploded across my lap. The cell phone bouncing off the headrest beside me didn’t fair quite as well but this was why I insisted on nigh-indestructible cases for all of my electronics. I thumbed it on to make sure Steve’s burner was saved in there before clicking it back off in favor of considering my young Sentinel. Apparently Kali felt like being subtle about her displeasure with my recent behavior. I’d smelled ghost peppers with less heat to them than her current temperament. My nose wrinkled at the familiar and hugely unwelcome scent of protein shake as I popped the safety latch open.

“I’m seriously beginning to hate this shit,” I grumbled, taking a drink and instantly regretting the action.

Kali’s equally familiar and much more welcome face showed absolutely no sympathy for my predicament. “If your imperial majesty would quit leaping headfirst into danger with no backup, perhaps you could avoid drinking it all together.”

“I’m here for a good time, not a long time,” I said airily before I sucked down half the mug in a long series of gulps. The speed it moved through my mouth at did not improve the flavor. Ugh.

“Don’t even joke about it, my lady,” Kali threatened. “It’s a miracle you’ve survived as long as you have.”

“I’m pretty sure my survival isn’t entirely dependent on some abstract theoretical concept largely accepted by modern society and noted for being mostly fickle in its nature.”

“Notice I said miracle, not luck. My lady.”

“Same difference.” I shrugged, chugging the rest of the gelatinous chalk. A shudder rippled through my body as I returned the mug to my tormentor. She dumped it into the bag with a none too gentle _whump_. Hopefully nothing in there was breakable.

“Gods above, give me patience,” Kali muttered, her eyes rolling to beseech the car ceiling.

“See, that’s where you’re going wrong,” I told her, snapping my fingers as a thought suddenly occurred to me. “You’re asking for patience and the only way to get that is to be put into situations where you have to exercise self-control to obtain more of the requested virtue. That totally explains the ridiculous number of rash decisions I’ve been making lately. It must be in answer to your prayers.”

A faint squawk made itself at home in Kali’s usually eloquent mouth.

“You’re welcome.”

I settled back to watch her seethe wordlessly for several long minutes. Her fingers clenched into trembling fists before she very deliberately smoothed them back out across her thighs, wiping at nonexistent wrinkles with one hand as she reached up with the other to pinch the bridge of her squashed button nose. The vague notion of carefully constructed number sequences floated up to me from the half opened connection shared between us and it took me a moment to realize why I recognized the seemingly random order.

“I don’t think a recitation of Pi is going to be enough,” I said helpfully.

Kali actually growled at me this time and I couldn’t help the sympathetic chuckle from making its way up from my chest.

“Get it out now. Before you burst your eardrums.”

“My lady, you are too reckless!” Kali snapped, whirling in her seat to glare openly. “Interacting with an unstable man, _alone_ , in an area that was well outside our established boundaries of control. Exposing your abilities to a man that has a history of manipulating those around him for his own personal agenda. And then voluntarily being taken to an enemy fortress, without weapons or easily accessed escape routes, just so you can stare down a madman who has a veritable army at his disposal!”

The young Sentinel sucked in a breath as she paused, warm cinnamon eyes suspiciously wet as she reached hesitantly to brush her fingers against the back of my hand. Her entreatment was a bare whisper of flesh and raw ache that strung the bond between us tight.

“Please… Please you can’t keep doing this,” Kali said. Her voice cracked on the hard consonants. “You were lucky this time. _We_ were lucky. But if you keep on this path, you will die.”

“We all die eventually, Kali.” My whisper lost itself in the stuttering heave of the young Sentinel’s breast.

“That doesn’t mean you have to go looking for it.”

I blinked at her sharp tone, glancing over at Ida’s unflinching scrutiny from the rearview mirror. The elder Sentinel was suspiciously quiet as she executed a perfect left-hand turn through the middle of a busy intersection without so much as a twitch of her eyelid. Given the number of outraged car horns, it probably wasn’t our turn. I raised an eyebrow. Ida may have been a loose cannon but she would skin herself alive before she intentionally put me in danger. I waited patiently for an explanation.

Kali was not feeling so accommodating, apparently.

“Why?!?” Kali demanded, flinging her arms wildly over her head. “What would possess you to—”

“There’s no tail,” Ida said flatly. As if that explained everything. As far as she was concerned, it probably did.

“Is that all you have to say?” Kali looked like she was rethinking her life’s choices. Probably with no small amount of regret.

“The child is right, empress.” Ida ignored the younger Sentinel’s outraged look at Ida’s choice of words. “You are the last of your bloodline. The only living heir to the Ivory Throne and General of the Celestial Legions. Your death will be the end of our era. Do not count such a thing of so little importance.”

“All things end,” I said, turning away from their stricken faces. I slammed our connections shut as a wave of longing swelled in my heart of hearts at the sense of freedom her words invoked. Yes, one day things would end.

But not today.

There was still work to be done. Preparations to make so my people would continue to be safe and prosper. With an effort I forced myself to consider my next course of action. Though to effectively do that, I needed to have as much information as possible. The car continued on in uncomfortable silence as I took various reports from the Network on the security status of our home bases. None had been compromised since Fury’s assassination. All activities in the accounts connected to Sitwell’s team had also frozen as far as they could tell. Though there was a great deal of chatter over the lesser known international mercenary communication lines about a massive contract for somewhere on the East Coast. The details were still sketchy at best. My Angels were frustrated at their apparent failure and my own irritation at having to calm their near-hysteria whenever they contemplated their lack of results too long was burning through the last reserves of my patience. Eventually I worked through the last report before I slumped back down into the awkward tangle my constant repositioning had left the towels in. I gave a half-hearted attempt to straighten them before deciding it wasn’t worth it.

“Well that was a waste,” I muttered to myself. My two Sentinels had been privy to most of the reports, so I was at least spared the further annoyance of repeating the supreme lack of information for them.

Kali’s quiet hum was consoling but Ida openly scoffed. Obviously she didn’t approve of my current tactics.

“I suppose you have a better idea?” I challenged harshly.

“It’s certainly more efficient than this shadow play.”

“I’m all ears.”

“You should unleash the Lost Bezerkers,” Ida said curtly. “Clan Vega is closest. They could bring theirs within the hour. Two dozen should be more than adequate to overtake the Triskelion.”

Unleash the oldest, most vicious Angels who’d lost their minds after centuries of slaughtering everything in their path for the whim of the empresses’ past. Angels so feral that even their bondmates feared them and I walked in their company for only the gravest of needs. Well that would certainly send a message. Not that it was the kind of message I was looking for currently.

“That seems like a slightly extreme reaction to the current situation,” I replied wryly before my tone became serious. “They’ve been abused enough in their lifetime. I’ve no intention of dragging them back from whatever peace their isolation has won them. Our enemies aren’t worth that.”

“These people need to be taught what happens when they defy an empress of the Tenth Realm.”

Gods above, I could practically see Apohen pop out of her mouth with those words. Which was not a disturbing thought at all.

“They’ll learn that lesson when and how I deem necessary, Sentinel Ida.” I let the authority of my position soak our connection and she tilted her head down and to the side, exposing the back of her neck in an obvious display of submission. We stayed that way for a long moment before I removed the mental pressure. “I’ll deal with them later.”

“When you do, I want first taste.”

The hunger in her voice had Kali and I exchanging a significant look. “We’ll see,” I said, choosing to placate her instead of picking another fight. “Right now I want any and all facilities connected to the local branches of the Network evacuated and the internal computer systems wiped. It’s only a matter of time before our enemies move on them. I don’t want a single crumb left for them to find.”

“It will be done, my lady,” Kali assured me quietly. Her mind was alight with a dozen connections as she carried out my orders instantly. “Try to rest. We’ll be at the safe house soon.”

Sleeping did sound like a pretty good idea right now. Maybe some new, brilliant insight would come to me after I let my brain reboot.

Just as my eyes began drifting closed, the phone I’d all but forgotten about vibrated to life beneath the small of my back. I arched off of it with an undignified squeal. The tiniest hints of amusement flickered through Ida and Kali’s mind but I stopped paying attention when a quick glance at the screen revealed it was Steve’s burner number. The phone was to my ear before I consciously made the decision.

“What happened?” I demanded before it had a chance to ring a second time. “Are you all right?”

“Man, has she got you pegged, Rogers.” The vaguely familiar woman’s snark was not what I was expecting and for a moment I considered pulling the phone away to make sure my semi-delirious brain wasn’t playing tricks on me. The urge proved unnecessary when Steve’s exasperated voice followed shortly on the heels of the woman’s.

“Dang it, Nat! I said just to text her the information,” he snapped and I realized where I’d heard the woman before. Natasha Romanoff, the Black Widow. Apparently she’d followed Steve into his self-imposed exile. “And why is her voice coming out of the truck’s speakers?”

“God it’s so cute when you act like the crotchety old man you are,” Romanoff said, openly mocking him. “Oooo, you wanna roll down your window at this light and yell at those kids to get off the lawn while you’re at it? It could be fun!”

“Why would I want to yell…it’s not even my law—-nope, forget it. We’re not getting into this right now.” Steve gave a loud, frustrated sigh. “Nothin’ happened. And aside from regretting my current choice in co-pilots, I’m just fine. Thank you very much. I am actually _capable_ of _taking care of myself_. Regardless,” he continued loudly over Romanoff’s disbelieving snigger, “of what other people may think. But it’s a free country, so they are entitled to their own, _completely ridiculous,_ opinions.”

“Is it really so much opinion as unfortunate fact?” Romanoff wondered aloud and I could feel Steve’s temper boiling through the wireless signal. Better get us back on track before I was stuck listening to their bickering forever.

“Let me get this straight,” I drawled slowly. “You interrupted my hard-earned nap, which I might remind you that I am taking on your _direct orders,_ Captain, to tell me you started a Bonnie and Clyde routine with an international assassin?”

“We are not driving around aimlessly robbin’ an’ killin’ folks,” Steve said hotly. It was vaguely adorable how his Brooklyn roots reared to the surface with his frustration. “And we’re only borrowin’ this car! It ain’t stole.”

“Hey you got that reference!” Romanoff sounded deeply impressed. “Look at you, picking up on pop culture.”

“There’s no way he wouldn’t have caught it,” I told her flatly. “Bonnie and Clyde committed most of their crimes in the 1930s. The man lived through their rise to famous gore.”

“Don’t you mean their rise to gory fame?”

“I said what I meant. Keep up, Romanoff.”

“Wait, are you telling me you intentionally used a reference from Cap’s era? That’s so sweet.”

“ _Anyway_ ,” Steve cut in with a huff. “Nat has some information about the shooter. Which she is going to share with you. _Now._ ”

Faint static was the only sound for several long moments.

“Well that was profound,” I said, rolling my eyes. “Thank you, truly, for your invaluable contribution to the cause. Can I go now?”

“Nat.” Steve’s tone was full captain mode.

Romanoff sighed unhappily. “Most of the intelligence community thinks he’s an urban myth. To those of us who know the truth, he’s called the Winter Soldier.”

“Stupid of them to dismiss things out of hand. There’s always at least a speck of truth in every myth,” I said thoughtfully. “Is there anything else I should know?”

“Yeah. No where is safe. And don’t let him get you in his sights.”

Because that wasn’t ominous at all.

“So he’s a sniper. What about close-quarters combat?” I asked.

“No one I know has ever survived to give a report on that,” Romanoff said with a falsely-patient air. “They send him in when they need a ghost. He goes in, takes out the target and anything or anyone who gets in his way, then vanishes until the next time. There’s no trail. Nothing. I’ve searched for him for years. You aren’t going to find him.”

“Ten bucks says you’re wrong.” I exchanged a smirk with my Sentinels as Kali swiftly updated our investigative agents. The frenzy of activity I felt echo through their connections as they rabidly devoured the information would have been concerning if it didn’t fill me with so much pride at the same time. Pride in my people for doing what they do best: hunting elusive prey. “After all, you don’t know anything about me.”

“I know Steve trusts you,” she countered quietly. The hint of raw emotion seemed completely out of place in her voice as she continued. “And Steve says Fury did too. So I guess I’ll have to for now.”

I took a moment to consider the mountain of things she left unsaid in that moment. “If you haven’t already, get the numbers preprogrammed into Steve’s phone,” I said as a show of good faith. “Both of them. I check my phone on the fortieth minute of every hour. If I’m not around, someone will be made available at all times at the second number.”

“Roger that. Good hunting.”

“Be careful,” Steve said and I could just imagine the serious pucker digging between his eyebrows.

“Scout’s honor,” I said before ending the call.

I tapped my fingers idly on the back of the phone case as I let it rest heavily against my chest. “Well,” I muttered eventually. “We finally have a name.”

Now what in the hell was I supposed to do with it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so now we've established some things, lets get to the moment everyone has been waiting for. Time for the Winter Soldier to make himself known again! Thanks for all the support and the kind words from those of you who messaged me. It means the world you guys!!!


	8. Chapter 7: Let Slip the Dogs of War

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ta da!!!! Oh and also warning for the severe uptick in violence you're about to see in this chapter. Our little Mercy isn't all peaches and cream, especially when she's protecting the people she cares about.

As it turns out, searching for an elite assassin who’d managed to remain a ghost while pulling off some of the most difficult hits this century was every bit as difficult as Romanoff prophesied. No, difficult wasn’t the right term. These assassinations had been nigh impossible sure, but they had also shown a definitive pattern. Each had taken place at a historical fork in the road. And the result sure as hell hadn’t been for the better.

I scowled at the tablet cradled in my lap as I re-read the pitifully thin file the Network had scraped together while I’d succumbed to my body’s inevitable collapse. Deep sleep had removed the last of my previous injuries and an embarrassing amount of food later my body was returned to its prime. The freshly grown muscle knotted with familiar tension beneath my sleeveless, molten grey turtleneck and dark cargo pants as I rubbed absentmindedly at the headache I could feel coiling up my spine. A quick sip of lukewarm willow bark tea helped me stave it off for just a little longer.

The first credited hit by the infamous Winter Soldier was a little over fifty years ago. The Venezuelan president at the time had been the target, though history remembered it as a failed kidnapping attempt between two close friends who’d had a falling out over politics. From there the legend grew, from impossibly long shots before the technology was there to properly facilitate them and beyond to entire compounds eradicated in a single hour. Speculation ran wild amongst our sources as the to official tally of his hits. Some said it was not more than twenty, some swore on their mothers’ graves it was in the hundreds. The only fact they could agree upon was he came, he took out his target with extreme prejudice, and then disappeared like a scream on the wind. Its aftermath invisible but panic inducing nonetheless. It was an effect that seemed to be common on the topic. One source had gone so far as shooting himself in the head after repeating rumors the Winter Soldier once hailed from Siberia. Which wasn’t the least bit profound given his proclivity towards the Russian language. No one mentioned anything about a metal arm either. Not that it would have been conclusive evidence but it would have been something.

I huffed in frustration before closing the tablet down once more. There wasn’t anything here that might point me in the direction of my elusive squatter and it certainly didn’t lend itself to unraveling the reasons behind my idiotic urge to protect him. While I was the first to admit, if only to myself, I’d suffered from a higher than average hero complex, I generally waited until I got to know people to throw myself on apocalyptic-level grenades. Just the thought of him potentially being at another’s mercy—Pierce’s face surged to the fore of my mind and I felt an unholy surge of satisfaction at the thought of beating it into bloody, unrecognizable pulp—had my teeth baring. The tablet in my hand creaked beneath the pressure of my flexing hands. With a concerted effort I backed myself from the pitfall of rage gaping inside. The last few days had taken far greater a toll on my self-control than I wanted to admit. Normally I’d take some time, head out to my latest project and burn all my negative emotions out through the intense physical demands of gutting the interior of the house so I could make it new again. Make it safe and better than it was.

The need to shape a new shelter gnawed me raw until I forced my thoughts back to reality.

There wasn’t time to disappear now. To worry about myself when so many others, _thousands_ , needed me here to guide and protect them from the threats I’d led right to our door. Setting the tablet on the arm of the chair I’d just vacated, I let me eyes linger briefly on the leather spear sheath resting unobtrusively on the wall beside it. Though not as effective as flipping houses, contact staff spinning was a close second to helping me realign my emotions into a more useful shape. I could spare the time for at least one song.

Without a second thought I slipped a set of wireless earbuds in place, linking them to my iPod, newly liberated form Sharon’s apartment, and finally settled on a new favorite I’d discovered while YouTube surfing a few weeks back. It was a few seconds work to clear the sparsely furnished room enough my staff wouldn’t hit anything when extended to its full height. I plucked it from the sheath and released it from its travel size with a brief swipe of my thumb over the hidden switch. A moment to refamiliarize myself with the cool weight of the staff’s perfect balance and then I was off, the music loud enough to drown out everything else.

The heavy bass rocked through my sensitive eardrums, ending with a welcome throb in the hollow of my breast. I rotated my head in a slow circle, the vibranium staff caressing the faintly glistening skin of my neck as it spun in a deliberate circuit across my shoulders before traveling down to the waiting cup of my sharply bent wrist. Etched into the universe’s most precious element were intricate patterns of exotic flora and fauna from the secret depths of Wakana’s legendary jungles. At the exact center of the staff, surrounded by an honor guard of snarling panthers, was a slender bloom that twined its heart-shaped leaves together in a crown of sorts. The staff had been a gift to my parents from Wakanda’s ancient rulers back from the time when the secretive Africans built their first soaring towers. A ceremonial token to celebrate an alliance that had been lost to their histories before I was born. Even now I kept the peace more out of a sense of obligation to my parents’ memories than to any real necessity. The five tribes were of little threat to my people, preferring to squabble amongst themselves over their precious vibranium mountain and leave the rest of the world to drown in its own blood.

The staff I kept because it was the single most beautifully crafted weapon I’d ever laid eyes on. One that wasn’t built entirely for slaughter. That could be used to defend. To guide and shelter should the opportunity for mercy present itself. Perfectly balanced no matter if it was collapsed into its foot long travel length or extended beyond my height. A wickedly sharp traditional spearhead could extend from one end with a touch of a second hidden switch. The greatest craftsmen in Wakandan history had labored over it for months and nothing produced to this day was its equal.

I let the music lead me into the next series of complex, twining moves that sent the staff on a cascading path around my torso to my hip and finally to land lightly on my flexed toes. A casual flick sent it soaring back up to land in the vulnerable arch of my throat as I dropped to my knees with inhuman grace. The bitter tang of frustration and confusion burned away as I whirled the staff steadily faster to match my chosen song’s growing crescendo. My world shrank to this single room. To the adrenaline, the surge of confidence, and the fierce desire to forge beyond the obstacles laid before me the music awoke. While contact staff spinning was a fairly new concept to many, its roots could be traced to many ‘ancient’ martial arts forms I’d mastered before the end of my first quarter century. It was cathartic in a way straight physical exertion failed to be. A reminded of times spent at my parents’ knees as they prepared me to the best of their ability for my future. Faint melancholy sat at the back of my throat as I ended the dance with a whirling toss that looked impressive but was accomplished more by the staff’s impeccable balance than by any movement from me. It was pure instinct to catch the staff on the return descent with a hand behind my back as I turn to acknowledge the shadow glowering at me from the doorway.

“Even you can grow deaf if you insist on listening to that electric caterwauling, my empress.”

I arched on eyebrow as Ida leaned against the room's entrance, the scarred expanse of her bare arms thrown into sharp contrast by the florescent lights’ harsh glow. A quick tap to the iPod silenced the music before the next song on the list started. “I think Digital Summer might protest their music being called caterwauling.”

“That is not music,” she said, nose wrinkling in distaste. An ancient mercenary should not have reminded me so much of an offended cat. The correlation was entirely too cute to be logical. Or healthy.

“Everyone is entitled to their own opinion,” I retorted sagely as I returned the staff to its original size before slipping it back into the sheath. My wireless earbuds were tucked away into the same large thigh pocket that housed my iPod, shut down entirely to conserve its battery. Ida took the tablet so I could buckle the sheath into place on my back as we made our way down the deserted hallway to the stairwell at the far side of the building. If she’d bothered to come all the way up here, it probably meant the building was ready to be evacuated. No point in sitting around when there was work to be done. Though I steadfastly refused to be guilty for the short respite I’d taken with my staff and my music. I wasn’t going to do anyone any good by ripping heads off just to appease my own shitty temper.

“I’m assuming you’ve come to do more than gripe about the excessive level of electric guitar in _Come On_ ,” I said eventually. It was more statement than question but I still left enough curiosity in my tone to encourage an answer.

“‘Come on’?”

“The title of the song.”

“Sounds aggressive.”

I couldn’t help the slightly feral smirk that blossomed across my face. “I’m not exactly channeling puppies and kittens at the moment.”

“Perhaps if we arranged to dump you into a container full of them, you would actually stay safe for more than three seconds,” Ida groused and I felt my eyebrows steadily crawling up my forehead.

There was something very wrong with Ida. She’d barely left my side the entire time we’d been at the local security corporation’s offices, watching over the fretful sleep that ate up most of my day and sitting in silent judgement when another Sentinel had served me enough food to feed a small battalion. Including one massive omelet so chocked full of vegetables I’d given idle consideration to inspecting it for Peter Rabbit’s little blue jacket before inhaling it at an embarrassing speed.

Between the customary brooding and her insistence to personally inspect everything that came within a foot of my person, I’d finally banished her to oversee the packing of the company’s arsenal. She’d taken the new assignment begrudgingly and at some point in the last two hours changed into a set of urban camouflage fatigues worn by every active duty combatant under my authority. They were more fitted than traditional militaries allowed, every stitch customized for optimal durability and freedom of movement during a fight. The body armor worked into each set was on par with anything S.H.I.E.L.D. had to offer. A fortune to procure, sure, but it helped settle that anxious, withering knot that formed beneath my heart whenever I thought of the danger those in my care faced on a daily basis. By their own choice of professions, but still, it helped to do what I could to keep them safe. Especially now that war loomed on the horizon. My people were officially on high alert, which meant anyone who had a chance of getting caught in the crossfire was bundled up and armed to the teeth.

With one very glaring exception: me.

Due entirely to my own procrastination and general loathing for anyone touching me, I’d successfully avoided the last five attempts by the seamstresses to get me to a fitting. Truthfully there had been perfectly sound reasons for not going, mostly emergency clan business and one particularly exhausting trip down a rainbow-bridged memory lane. However it was coming to bite me straight in the darkest part of my little white ass. A phrase Kali had been reduced to saying at least three times tonight alone as she frantically searched through our supply for something for me to wear besides the items clothing me now. The shin-high combat boots fit properly at least. A gift from one of my Angel’s young bondmates who had been evacuated from the premises earlier. I’d been too busy wolfing my omelet down to give a coherent ‘thank you’ when she practically flung them at me before fleeing back through the doorway as if a pack of ravenous hellhounds were nipping at her heels. Her bonded Angel, a security risk analyzer named Laura, was equal parts amused and mortified by the spectacle she caused. Though once she’d explained the young tech guru suffered from social anxiety much of my confusion over the whole thing was cleared up, as was Ida’s lingering concern it was a poorly conceived attack. I’d taken the time to personally thank both of them through our shared bond. The bondmate was predictably bashful at the attention and her Angel nearly burst with pride at her earning their empress’ gratitude. Delightedly smothering her with affection by the time I made polite excuses to close the bond back up.

Thinking back to Ida’s strange aggression towards the young bondmate had my frown deepening. I pressed gently against the shroud the old Sentinel kept wrapped around her mind. She opened to me slowly. Not so much reluctant as hesitant. As if she knew what lay in wait would upset me. I allowed myself a brief peek beyond her defenses before I pulled back to return her privacy.

Ida was devolving much more quickly than I’d hoped. It was now a matter of ‘when’ I’d have to intervene. Not just ‘if’.

My heart knotted up in my chest all over again.

“You have bigger problems to worry about,” Ida grumbled at me, leading the way down the rear emergency stairway. “Attend your duties, my empress.”

“It’s a sorry empress that can’t spare even a moment for one of her oldest and most faithful guardians,” I pointed out, tone as mild as I could manage given the upheaval to my emotions.

Ida gave me an exasperated look. “Never knew an empress to bleed so freely for a broken tool. You will shrivel to nothingness if you do not learn compartmentalization.”

I halted mid-step, staring in muted rage as Ida halted as well, her once-proud gaze inspecting the old, badly painted stairs with a trepidation that never belonged to her. Without a thought I cupped a hand over the nape of her neck, stooping to rest my forehead against hers as I wound my other arm around her shoulders.

“You are many things, Ida of Clan Sirius,” I said firmly. “But broken or my tool you never were. Nor will you ever be.”

“The time is near,” Ida whispered and for the first time I could feel the slightest hint of terror crawl down our connection. It was an unspeakable cruelty to know your mind betrayed you and there was nothing you could do to heal the damage it wrought. Even more so when it left you facing an uncertain future. “And you will only grieve more if you do not heed my words. Harden your heart, my empress. Less you bleed it dry on this old killer.”

The muscles in my throat strangled my voice for an impossibly long moment. The bitter acid from her distress tainted the air between us. Eventually I drew strength from the only constant in my life: the requirements of my station. My voice clawed its way free and added steel to my spine as I lifted my chin in silent challenge. “In the many decades of my reign, have I ever failed in my duties to my people?”

Ida blinked in surprise, voice lost as she gave a barely visible shake of her head.

“Then why, Sentinel, do you now question my ability to satisfy my duty to you in your time of need? Have you lost confidence in your empress?”

Horror broke across the Angel’s face and I felt a twinge of guilt. Okay, more than a twinge. That was such a dick move to pull right now. When she was vulnerable and raw and having her own rapidly approaching morality shoved down her throat with the force of an out of control tanker. But I couldn’t… The knowledge that the beautiful, courageous woman who’d guarded me from the day I was born, who held my hand after I fell from climbing my first tree, crooned lullabies when my parents were too busy to tend my nightmares, was trying to coach me on how to end her life before she became too much of a threat to our people’s hidden existence. I couldn’t fathom cutting her off. Turning her into a stranger just so my heart had a chance, however stupid and small that chance might be, to not be crushed by her loss.

So I twisted her words, deliberately confused her final lesson to me so she tripped over herself to backpedal from her final demand. Practically falling all over herself in a mental cascade of nonverbal communication to assure me my accusations had no merit. I’d probably burn for this manipulation in whatever afterlife finally claimed me. And rightly so. But for now, at least in this moment, I didn’t have to face the inevitable goodbye that had been hanging over us for years.

As I watched her stuttered apology, I noticed the strange calm that settled heavily over her thoughts. As if my agreement to end her life, because that’s what this was and we both knew it, as if that was the most precious thing in the world to her. The idea had me swallowing back a wave of bile. But if it helped, if Ida could draw comfort from that, I’d gladly live with the guilt for the rest of my days.

Though any further discussion was effectively killed by a wave of death visions slamming into me like some weird, morbid tsunami. The images jumbled together like debris in a rushing tide, brief snatches that strobed before my mind’s eye as I struggled to make sense of what I saw. A Laura collapsed beneath a spray of bullets, her bondmate gurgling at her side as she pawed weakly at the ragged hole torn through her throat. A dozen Angels torn apart by a frag grenade in the smoking remains of the lobby. Bondmates screaming as their bonded Angels tore apart intruders and were rent asunder in return. I collapsed back into the real world with a gasp. Ida watched me with growing apprehension. She’d seen my mother have enough death visions to recognize the symptoms when she saw them.

Without a thought I exploded my awareness out around me, stretching beyond our neighboring buildings where two dozen auras ranging from sickly carrot orange to bright scarlet were steadily making their way closer in a loose circle. Leaving the building completely surrounded. I did a brief headcount of the technicians and Angels who were still waiting for evacuation. Most of our people had already been relocated to a safer compound outside the city limits earlier in the day. The only ones left were highly valued support staff and twenty young Angels who’d volunteered to finish wiping the building of any usable information. Not my elite fighters but they would be more than a match for any enemy here in a one-on-one competition. Though I doubted our attackers would consent to such outdated tactics. Besides, I needed to send all but five of those Angels to guard our noncombatants as they escaped out the basement tunnel.

A faint warning hum vibrated across my mind, steadily growing as I felt our enemies creep closer. The skin beneath my choker began itching almost immediately as Apohen rose in answer to my tightly bound worry. The ancient monster hissed at our enemies’ audacity and released the magical force that gave her life to my command. It was unnerving how natural it felt to welcome her strength, to combine our life-force into a cohesive unit but I wasn’t about turn aside help in the face of this new threat to our people. By whatever stroke of luck shone down on me Apohen felt no need to speak as we twined together and I settled into the burn that slithered over my mind as well as my skin in answer to her presence.

It was a small price to pay.

Power roared through me as I yanked open every connection I had in the building and within a hundred kilometers of our location. With Apohen’s steady presence attacking as a buffer between my mind and the rush of every living aura in that space screaming for my attention, it was easier keep my focus on my Angels’ connections. I knit them together sharply, drawing those who weren’t already bound together until we were one. The half formed plan in my mind spread like wildfire through their minds as I dropped into the temporary hive mind I’d created. Words were unnecessary as my people and I traded information with lightening speed, each adding details or suggestions to our defensive strategy as the chosen escorts shepherded the noncombatants to safety. Those who were safely outside the city’s limits quickly arranged transportation to pick them up at the other end of the tunnel. The plan settled between us effortlessly. This building had been modified heavily in the years since our acquisition for just such a time and there was more than a few surprises in store for our enemies when they dared set foot in our territory. Ones they would probably never get a chance to wonder at before we dumped them at Hell’s Gates.

As the last of our perimeter scouts returned to the building, I took a moment to isolate Ida’s mind from the others. The elder Sentinel could tell instantly what I intended to say and seethed when I cut short her mental protest.

_I want you to go with the escort team._

_I am of better use to you here, empress._ She was practically vibrating where she stood and I felt my heart twinge at the hurt my perceived slight caused her. That didn’t change my decision however.

 _You are one of our greatest warriors and my most trusted protector,_ I reminded her. _I know our people will be safe in your care._

_You trust me so much you send me away at the first glimpse of battle?_

I refused to let her jab sting as much as it wanted to. Later, when everyone was safe and the danger removed, then I would wallow in the hollow ache it left. Now though, I needed her away from the bloodshed. Her mind was fragile enough already.

My will crystalized around her. _Protect our people. That is an order, Sentinel Ida._

_As my empress commands._

There was something I missed, a flicker across her mind that she ruthlessly smothered before it could creep down our connection as she marched resolutely away from me. I almost chased it, almost demanded an explanation. Apohen practically vibrated with the need to do so. But I’d already taken so much from her today. Maybe a little compassion and respect for her privacy would soothe some of the hurt. I followed swiftly after her, taking the ground floor exit as she continued deeper to the basement. Kali was waiting for me on the other side of the steel door, a black tactical vest and dark gray-hued zip-up hoodie thrust impatiently into my chest as she finished last minute details with the Angels preparing for the assault. All were experienced security personal who’d been in a dozen firefights in their time. I’d worked with each at one point or another on previous clan business. They were polite, yet completely focused on the task at hand.

The escort team had removed the last of the noncombatants finally and resealed the hidden entrance in the basement once more, disappearing down the escape tunnel as if they’d never existed. Satisfied with their safety for the time being, I turned my attention to pulling the elongated turtleneck up over my nose before I checked the complex weave I’d used to tame my hair after my post-nap shower. My spinning hadn’t loosened the braided tails pinned up the back of my skull. Which was a good thing since I was pretty sure I didn’t have enough time to re-do the entire thing. The zippered jacket fit snuggly to my torso, the hood deep enough to stay in place as I moved while not entirely obscuring my vision. The varying shades of grey would help me blend into the shadows, breaking up my body’s natural outline. After fussing with the clothes for a little bit to make sure everything remained smooth against my skin, I strapped the ballistics vest to my torso, fitting my leather sheath over the top of it, and then clamored up into a hidden alcove behind a support beam in the center of the lobby’s ceiling.

The room’s architecture had been subtly changed to incorporate the shape into an abstract ceiling decoration so a hasty inspection wouldn’t draw attention to the potential danger it carried. It offered me the best vantage point in the room facing towards the rear, as well as positioning me over the only clear path through to the elevator. There was a ready-made noose of braided paracord with one end secured to the beam beneath my feet tucked neatly off to the side. With any luck it would let me snag one of the men for questioning later while providing a timely distraction. There was nothing like a little insider information to cut through the guess work of external investigation. Besides, a survivor would be needed to spread the word about what horrors were in store for anyone stupid enough to make a move against my people.

Keeping part of my awareness on their progress through the tunnel, I settled in to wait for the coming battle. Kali took up position beneath the welcome desk where she had access to the controls that ran the buildings extra security features. A pair of semi-automatic Sig Sauer pistols were strapped to her thighs, her custom silencers already screwed into place. Weapons was one of the few places my Angels had no problem updating and most took comfort in the versatility of modern firearms. Though every single one was trained extensively in traditional weapons as well. Each carried at least one such weapon as a backup in case their primary weapons failed at an inopportune moment. I was the only one who avoided guns. They were too noisy for my taste, inevitably distracting me at the worst possible moment. Plus it was too easy to track them nowadays.

The lights above died with a faint sputter and I noted with vague interest the assault team had split into three eight-man groups. One coming through the front and rear ground floor entrances and the last making their way down from the roof. None of them were close to our breaker’s external position, so they must have paid someone in the city to cut our power. That meant a money trail. Excellent. I sent the request for further investigation into this to one of the support techs outside the city. They dove into the hunt with a giddy intensity that brought a smirk to my face. It was good at least one person was having fun right now. Kali primed the generators from her hidden position, ready to snap the lights back on when it was most beneficial to us. My Angels, privy to the men’s every move courtesy of my shared awareness in the hive mind, adjusted their positions accordingly as they settled in to wait for their unsuspecting prey to walk themselves right into our carefully laid trap.

A faint clunk from the front lobby doors announced the entrance of the first team just as the rooftop and back entrance teams made their move. Heavy boots echoed softly across the tastefully furnished floor, their equipment creaking as their coquelicot auras revealed their every subtle movement as they swept the room. Several tense seconds passed as the men moved steadily closer to the center of the room, clearing the front desk with a careless sweep.

Sloppy. Stupid and sloppy. My Angels rumbled disdainfully in agreement.

Eight stories above us, the rooftop team was pausing at the first landing only to find the door locked. Just like all the other doors would be. Beneath them, the rear entrance team made their way across the ground floor, heading down the hallway that connected to the base of the staircase. Obviously they intended to clear the floors in the reverse direction. Two of my Angels confirmed they were relying on night vision goggles, though not an advanced enough version to have infrared capabilities. Soft murmurs could just barely be caught from our hiding positions as the teams regularly checked in via wireless coms to the man leading the group below me. I settled on him as my target of choice for the noose. Leaders usually carried the most useful bits of information. Thin neon green lasers danced across the walls of the lobby below me. I waited patiently until all groups were in the optimal positions for attack. It was a moment’s concentration to pull my awareness back to me so their pain wouldn’t distract me in the fight to come. Kali responded to my unspoken signal instantly.

With a single push of a button, the entire support structure for the stairs collapsed, burying both teams in eight stories of twisted metal railing and concrete chunks. The men below me flinched as their teammates’ dying screams assaulted them through the coms. As the leader frantically demanded answers that would never come, I dropped the noose around his neck, yanking it tight with a well-practiced tug that threw him off balance. A double-handed jerk drug him kicking into the air as his gun clattered to the floor. His feet thrashed in a sick parody of a dance as he struggled for his life, breath wheezing in his throat as his men froze in shock. Kali took advantage of their mistake, her hungry pistols dropping three more where they stood before the others managed to dodge for nearby cover. She was safely behind the reenforced steel of the front desk before the first wave of retaliation slammed into its side. Panicked bursts of gunfire rattled through the room as I made sure the rope was secured enough the leader couldn’t wiggle himself back to the ground any time soon.

 _Ready the lights,_ I ordered Kali, sparing a brief thought to inspect how the other Angels fared. They were busy picking through the debris to see if any of our attackers had miraculously survived. As they found them, a quick strike from their knife rectified the situation. I left them to their grim task.

_Ready._

_Good. Three second warning._

A general acknowledgement rang through the hive mind. Kali gave the countdown with clipped, precise tones and I closed my eyes on one to keep from being blinded. The generators kicked on far below us with an audible rumble. Our attackers swore loudly and as they scrambled to remove their headgear, I dropped from the ceiling with an enraged shriek that further disorientated them. My staff extended at a touch, the spearhead cutting through the spine of the man who had the misfortune to cushion my landing. His vertebra separated with laughable ease and I spun to bury the spearhead into the armpit of the next mercenary without thought. A second stab took him through the throat. My movements drew the attention of the others, who failed to realize their wandering eyes left them vulnerable to Kali’s impeccable aim before it was too late. I didn’t bother glancing as the last two bodies sank to the ground with similar meaty thuds.

My attention rested solely on the figure thrashing in the air beside me. Their leader was proving remarkably resilient. He’d sawed halfway through the paracord in the time since I’d dragged him up from the ground. A tough nut to crack. This would require special attention. I swallowed a wave of regret before I settled myself into one of my least favorite personas: ruthless interrogator.

A casual flick of my spear severed the tendons running up the wrist connected to the hand holding his knife. It clattered to the ground as the man withered in obvious pain, his voice a barely audible wail as I continued to stalk deliberately around him, my spear snaking out to bite into both achilles tendons and his other wrist. Blood splattered the floor in sweeping arcs and I carefully stepped around the crimson patterns so they wouldn’t soak into my shoes. He wouldn’t be entirely immobilized but it would neutralize any retaliation he might attempt enough to allow complete control of the situation. I returned to stand in front of him, face purposefully blank as he continued to dangle on the end of my noose. The rage I felt roaring through his mind steadily cooled to primal terror as I made no move to ease his suffering.

_How long are we going to leave him there?_

I considered Kali’s hesitant question. The young Sentinel had been educated in the theory of interrogation techniques but to my knowledge had never participated in one. This didn’t seem like the appropriate one to break her in with. The other Angels would do if I required assistance. _Until he’s done marinating._

Kali appeared silently beside me, the other Angels joining us to create a loose honor guard around me as they reported the last of our attackers’ passings. They were silently intimidating with the barest whiff of copper rising from their matching outfits. Though more than a little amused at my careful examination of their bodies. Not a single scratch on any of them. I felt the tension in my shoulders loosen just the tiniest bit as the knowledge settled something in Apohen as well. The ancient creature hummed approval before disappearing into the depths of my mind, momentarily exhausted by the amount of power we’d used in so short a time. She hadn’t spent so much time at the fore of my mind in _years_ and the scratchy ache left over from my choker’s reaction to her presence left my skin twitching in a desperate bid to dispel it. The heady rush I’d felt while entwined with her faded too. A larger part of me than I wanted to admit was disappointed by its loss and I slammed the door shut on that feeling before I could dwell on it too much. At the very least she would be too exhausted to do much more than observe for the coming days. That was something to look forward to.

The rank stench of urine permeating the air informed me my prisoner was ready to have our chat.

“Drop him,” I ordered coolly and Kali instantly put a bullet through what was left of the paracord. The man collapsed to the floor with a hoarse whine as he landed jarringly on his knees. His momentum folded him into an awkward pretzel that left him hunched forward on his face. “Restrain him.”

My Angels leapt into action. Two sisters crouched on either side of him, keeping his legs tucked under his body while slamming his shoulders into the ground, his arms forced straight by their unyielding grip. Flexibility was not high on this man’s priority list and it showed in the pained grimace as his body arched at an awkward angle. A third Angel loosened the noose just enough for him to draw in a rattling wheeze, though she kept her position near his head to ensure it could be used to control his movements. Kali and the final Angel took up flanking positions by me, each with a pistol ready at their sides, and if his steadily deepening fear-stench was anything to go by, their expressions were not the friendliest. Good. He’d come here intending to murder my people. It was time he learned the cost of his mistake.

“Comfy?” I asked mockingly.

The man spat a surprisingly thick wad of drool at me, though it failed to actually land on any part of my person. The Angel stationed at his head slapped him hard enough to break his nose in retaliation. The man gurgled weakly as blood slowly dripped down the back of his throat. Had our places been reversed, I might have pulled a similar stunt. Still, his defiance wasn’t useful to me at the moment. Apparently we’d have to explain his predicament to him in greater detail. The Angels holding his arms buried their boot knives through the centers of his palms at my wordless command. The man’s eyes rolled into the back of his head as he arched impossibly further, a pained screech worming its way past his clenched jaw. His terror grew underneath my unruffled glare and for the first time his expression edged towards pleading.

Better. That was something I could actually work with.

“That was very foolish,” I informed him, my tone gentle and almost sympathetic-sounding. “Not the stupidest thing I’ve ever seen but perhaps in the top fifty.”

I paced around with my escort in tow to stand beside his head, the butt of my spear coming to rest with just the slightest hint of pressure in the center of his sternum.

“So now that I have you attention, I think you and I should have a little talk.” I leaned just the tiniest bit more of my weight down on him and he squirmed as much as his bounds allowed. “You’ll answer my questions, promptly and to the best of your ability, or I’ll have to get mean. Do you understand?”

The man shivered even as he continued to hold my gaze with his failing glare.

I narrowed my eyes and abruptly lost patience with him. I flipped my spear around to rest its razor edge on the zipper of his crotch. “Do you understand?”

“Yes!” he gulped, twitching futilely.

It was almost comical how quickly he complied at my threat. Not that he would have been the first. Knives, brands, acid… Some men could bear them all with a little sweat and some tears. But at the thought of losing a couple pounds of flesh hanging between their legs? They’d sing all day for me and say ‘thank you’ in the end.

“Please, just don’t…”

“That will depend entirely on you,” I told him truthfully. “Now, who hired you?”

“Didn’ get a name. Always just been a voice on a phone.”

“So you have a way to contact them?”

“Top left pocket.” He flicked wide, bloodshot eyes towards his vest and the closest sister extracted it without comment. A surprisingly high-end burner phone. Interesting.

I passed it to Kali with barely a glance. “Password?”

The man rattled it off without hesitation and the young Sentinel began digging through the phone for any and all data files. There wasn’t as much as I’d hoped for. Only an old schematic of our building and the official number of employees reported to the American government. There was some promise in a few old messages that hadn’t been completely deleted from the phone’s trash. Something about meeting up with other mercenary groups by the day after tomorrow. I kept half my attention on Kali’s search as I continued the interrogation.

“What were your mission parameters?” I asked.

“Sanitize the building. Weren’t supposed to leave any witnesses. Would have earned two thousand a head for every successful kill.” The man at least had the good sense to shrink in on himself as much as he could when my eyes narrowed further. Though he continued on when he saw I wasn’t going to interrupt. “After that, we were supposed acquire a target. Take her to meet up with the Asset. They would send further instructions later.”

“What was the target’s name?”

“Mercedes Nilsen.”

My Angels visibly flinched. My own hands and gaze remained steady. Honestly his answer didn’t surprise me. Pierce had made his interest blatantly obvious, so it was only a matter of time before they tried something desperate to get their hands on me.

“How were you planning on capturing her?”

“They gave us an address for one of her known associates. Said she’d come running if we applied pressure.”

My stomach squirmed as I considered the very short list of places that would have been at Pierce’s disposal. “What was the address?”

“Some nursing home with an old World War II bitty at it. Apparently the target has a soft spot for her.”

Peggy.

My grip quivered ever so slightly as I tried to rein in the seething boil racing through my veins. The man hunched in on himself as much as he could as I slowly titled my head to the side in what Peggy used to call my 'you done fucked up' look. She’d heard one of the Howling Commandos, most likely Dum Dum, use the phrase once before he realized a lady was present and had be perversely taken with it. Apparently when I tilted my head just so and every fiber of my being breathed murder, it was the first thing that came to her mind. I’d taken the ribbing with good humor at the time.

Unfortunately for the man at my feet, none of that humor was anywhere to be found now.

“You were planning on threatening a ninety year old woman in her sick bed?”

The mercenary squirmed but otherwise stayed silent. Smartest decision he’d made all day. There was no answer he could give that would have made me less inclined to run him through. I forcibly smothered the urge, reminding myself he could still have useful information. It was still a near thing when I managed to back off the spearhead’s pressure on his crotch.

“I don’t suppose your contact mentioned that ‘old bitty’ also was Captain America’s girlfriend before he went into the ice?” I guessed and judging by the way his pale face tinged green I’d hit the nail on the head. “I wonder how the First Avenger would have felt about whatever pressure you tried to apply?”

“We never touched her,” the man hurried to explain. “Just scoped the area and came here. No one got near her. Swear to God!”

“That might be the only thing that saves you,” I said quietly and my teeth should have dripped venom for the death whispering out with my words. The man cowered further into the floor as I let that sink in a moment. Eventually I regained enough composure to move on to a different topic. “This Nilsen character, did they say why she was a target?”

The man almost shrugged before his hands reminded him they were pinned to the floor by some very big knives. The resulting whimper was pitiful. “Just said she was necessary to the mission. That the Asset would handle her once we met up.”

Yeah that probably wasn’t going to go the way they thought it was. Regardless of who this ‘Asset’ was. “Who is the Asset?”

“Their pet monster.”

“Their what?”

“Monster. A soulless killing machine.” The man’s eyes took on a haunted quality conspicuously absent throughout the interrogation. As if he’d gazed into the face of the devil himself and realized the touch of hellfire itself wasn’t enough to thaw him afterwards. “It never stops. Not to eat. Not to drink. Not even for a piss. Ten times stronger than any man I’ve ever met and it never misses what it aims at. Ever.”

That at least sounded familiar.

“This ‘Asset’,” I said eventually when it became obvious the man couldn’t bare to continue. “He wouldn’t happen to have a metal arm, would he?”

That got the man’s attention instantly. “How the hell do you…?”

“You don’t get to ask the questions here,” I reminded him flatly. The Angel near his head flexed her grip around his noose just enough to remind him it was there. “Metal arm. Yes or no.”

“Yes. I’ve seen the weird fuck rip people apart with it.”

I wondered briefly if he meant that as just a figure of speak or a literal recounting of past events. His queasy expression had me leaning more towards the latter. “How do you know so much about him?” I demanded.

“I was on the team that usually escorted it to insertion points,” the man explained hurriedly. “Our company’s called in when our contact needed reliable transport on short notice.” His face turned irritated as he turned his head to the side. “Always told the guys upstairs that we’d regret taking the gig.”

“You weren’t supposed to provide support after transport, were you?”

“We were just going to drop the Asset on our way to another job. Then the contact called when this place backed out of their contract. Paid triple the usual rate in addition to the head count bonus.”

“Hard to back out of a contract that was never there in the first place,” I pointed out and this earned another grimace from the mercenary.

“Figures the pricks lied about that too.”

“So where is the Asset supposed to meet you once you’ve acquired the target?”

“Don’t know.”

My spear _pinged_ against his zipper as my hand deliberately twitched.

“Stop! I don’t know! The Asset always finds us. Always.”

Any further discussion was put on hold when the burner phone suddenly came alive in Kali’s hands. Five heads snapped towards it like hounds on a scent. The man was probably hoping for something else to capture my attention so he got a break from the interrogation. My Angels were more likely to deem it a threat. All their instincts were screaming for them to pluck me out of the situation and find the biggest, baddest fortress at our disposal to hide me away in until everyone who’d looked crosseyed at me was dead. Unfortunately for them, I wasn’t the kind to cower while those in my care were threatened. And Pierce had managed to hit every single one of my soft spots in less than twenty-four hours.

There wouldn’t be so much as ash left over once I was done with him and his little band of assholes.

Tensions ratcheted up in the room as I held out my hand expectantly. Kali surrendered it with only a brief hesitation. I tapped the answer button and a familiar, irritated voice filled the room as I put the phone on speaker.

“Have you acquired the target yet?”

“Acquiring might be a strong word for it, Agent Sitwell,” I mused, tone falsely pleasant. Silence rang between us for another couple seconds as I let the S.H.I.E.L.D. officer draw his own conclusions from his mercenaries very obvious failure. “Put Secretary Pierce on. He and I have a lot to discuss.”

“He’s not available at the moment,” Sitwell said, attempting to be authoritative but the faint waver at the end gave his nerves away. “I am more than capable—”

“Make him available,” I snapped and the mercenary screamed from the floor as my Angels twisted their knives just so. “I’m not in the mood for any more peons.”

Sitwell hesitated.

“Or should I just take my concerns about the _Lemurian Star_ directly to the World Security Council?” I threatened softly. “I’m sure they would be _very_ interested in what Captain Rogers dug up while he was on board.”

It was one hell of a bluff. There was a chance the council was in on the whole thing. Or Steve had been captured, since my Angels had lost track of him a few hours back and he’d failed to make contact since our last phone call in the car. Or maybe the flash drive wasn’t that important.

“Who do I say is calling?” Sitwell finally asked.

“Mercedes Nilsen.”

The man at my feet quit breathing for a long moment as he stared at me in open horror. I raised a condescending eyebrow at him in return. His skin was turning shockingly clammy and for a moment I vaguely wondered if he was going to pass out. It was mildly disappointing when he discovered how to properly work his lungs once more.

Sitwell sighed heavily in defeat. “One moment.”

Silence filled the lobby, broken only by the mercenary’s faint whimpering as he attempted to shift into a more comfortable position. Between the blood loss and unnatural position, he was probably in a world of hurt right now. I couldn’t find an ounce of pity to bestow on him. If anything else, it solidified my next course of action.

_I want Pierce’s home address._

Kali looked slightly taken aback but forwarded the request on to another support group that wasn’t currently relocating to a new base outside the city. _Are you going to start a fight with him?_

 _No._ My mind was grim as I listened to the static on the other end of the line. _But if he pushes, I’ll finish this once and for all. There are too many potential casualties not to take action._

 _I don’t suppose you’d let yourself be talked out of this?_ Kali sounded decidedly put upon.

_Not likely._

I glanced down as the phone clicked twice in the next ten seconds. Suddenly Alexander Pierce’s friendly voice echoed through the room.

“Mercy. I hear you’ve been busy,” he said, calm as if this was just a regular Sunday afternoon chat.

“You know, I realize that incompetency is a thing with your little lackeys but I never took _you_ for such a coward,” I said in greeting. It took effort to keep my tone as amicable as his. There was nothing I wouldn’t have given to throttle him right through the phone.

“That’s kinda hurtful, Mercy,” Pierce drawled and I could hear just the slightest edge to his voice now.

“If the boot fits. I’m not the one threatening little old ladies.”

“Ah. It appears our associate’s discretion wasn’t what we’d been promised.” The regretful disappointment in his voice had the mercenary’s skin turning a delicate shade of grey. A fresh wave of terror waifed from his prone form. “We’ll have to do something about that.”

“That sounds like a you problem,” I told him flatly. “ _We_ have other business to conclude.”

“Yes, it appears we do. Have you given any more thought to my offer from this afternoon?”

“It’s been on my mind quite a bit,” I admitted. “Though I still can’t say I’m impressed by what I’ve seen. Mostly the whole thing has been a huge disappointment. I guess I expected…more.”

“I’m sorry you feel that way. Perhaps you’d be interested in meeting with one of our specialists? I can think of a couple who’d love to make your acquaintance better.”

I allowed a dismissive snort to slip out. “If you’re talking Rumlow or Sitwell, I’ve seen all I need to from either of them. Though I am fairly curious about this ‘Asset’ everyone keeps mentioning. For starters, I don’t suppose you know why everyone calls him the Winter Soldier, do you? Is it a Russian thing?”

Pierce drew a sharp breath as I dropped the name Romanoff had given me. It was another gamble, though I had very little doubt my squatter and the ghost story were intimately connected. I just didn’t know how the connection had formed.

“Be very careful with what you say next, Mercedes Nilsen. You have amazing potential but that doesn’t mean you’re indispensable.”

There was no mistaking the threat in his voice and my Angels bristled instinctively in my defense. They’d have killed Pierce on principle had they been within a kilometer of him. I sent a wave of reassurance to them, secretly pleased that no one was close enough to carry out the hit before I could intervene. I intended to see him dead in the not too distant future but not yet. There was more information I needed to gleam from him.

“You’re going to regret threatening me,” I said candidly.

“And why would that be?”

“Let’s just say there’s a long, long line of graves filled with idiots who made the same mistake.”

“I didn’t realize you had such powerful friends,” Pierce sneered and I couldn’t help my answering peal of laughter. Judging by the looks being shot at me from everyone in the room, it wasn’t a nice sound.

“Oh, Secretary Pierce…I’ve never relied on others to fight my battles for me.”

“Is that so?”

“Why don’t you come and find out?” I challenged.

My Angels were loudly and frantically protesting this turn of events but I ignored their mental shouts. It was better this way. If I kept his attention focused on me, my people would be free to move about and get ahead of whatever Pierce was planning to do next. In bullfighting, the flashy cape wielded by the matador was his best defense against the bull’s powerful charges, keeping the enraged animal’s focus away from his comparatively fragile body. I’d take a goring any day to keep my people safe.

“Perhaps I will,” the other man mused. “It would be an excellent opportunity to see if you’re really worth all this fuss. I admit you’ve proven more resilient than I expected. Kind of like a cockroach.”

My Angels bristled anew, their rage a heady stench that slowly overtook the mercenaries fear. Pierce definitely wasn’t doing himself any favors.

“Your confidence is overwhelming, truly,” I said drily. “Out of curiosity, what if you find me wanting? What do you intend to do with me?”

“With a nobody like you? Your body won’t be all that hard to bury.”

Pierce could have been the poster-child of nonchalance. My Angels practically salivated as they glared at the phone in my hand, like sharks smelling fresh chum at dinner time. It would have frightened any reasonable person but I couldn’t help feeling the slightest bit flattered at how much they obviously cared. Maybe Peggy and Sharon were right. Maybe my upbringing had skewed my perception on violence and displays of affection.

Before I could put together an appropriate response, Pierce swore loudly and an ear shattering explosion of glass rang alarmingly through the phone’s speaker. Metal clanged against metal, followed shortly by an enraged scream that left my heart stuttering in my chest.

“Filthy vermin! You are not fit to lick the mud from my lady’s feet!”

 _Dammit Ida_.

The elder Sentinel continued to lay waste to the room on the other end of the line, the familiar ring of her preferred weapon, a two-handed broadsword, nearly covering Pierce’s frantic orders for someone to _protect me, goddammit!_

 _Shit_. The thought echoed from every Angel in the room and I couldn’t have agreed more. This was _not_ what I wanted to deal with right now. Ida’s physical position was too far away for me to reach without meditating. Or reconnecting with Apohen, whose previous assistance left her a debilitated puddle at my core. None of the other Sentinels were strong enough to force her to do anything against her own free will. And judging by the growing intensity of her snarls, whoever Pierce had set against her was holding their own, a herculean feat in itself. If I took control of her mind now, I could very well get her killed without meaning to.

There was nothing for it. I’d have to go rescue her personally.

 _Kali, choose two Angels to accompany me to Pierce’s house._ I slammed my spear into the side of the mercenary’s head, knocking him out cold as I spouted terse orders. _We’ll extract Ida and return to the city. In the meantime, I want every available Angel searching for information on every S.H.I.E.L.D. agent or politically connected individual who’s attacked us or has any the slightest personal connections to Pierce, Sitwell, or Rumlow. I don’t care if it’s a lunch date from ten years ago. Make a list and cross-reference everyone._

The sister Angels pinning the mercenary’s arms down retrieved their knives at a glance from Kali and headed for the armory. From the sounds of their bickering, there was some disagreement on the necessity of a grenade launcher on a rescue mission. Lillian, a bright young Angel with the finest mind for numbers I’d ever encountered, was listing in great detail the many benefits of bringing it along. Her older sister, Laura, whose bondmate had brought me the boots, argued that the launcher’s abnormally heavy weight made it less efficient overall than a standard assault rifle. Their sibling relationship was not lending itself well to an amicable outcome any time soon. So I weighed in as tie-breaker. Given how things had been going the past couple of days I was more inclined to accept having it along for the ride. Strictly as a precaution. My preference effectively ended their argument and I turned my attention back to Kali as I slipped my newly shortened staff into its sheath for the journey ahead. The phone went to Kali, its speakers echoing slightly with the muffled sounds of combat. Almost like something was covering the phone on the other end of the line. Maybe Pierce had dropped it during the attack.

 _You think this is bigger than S.H.I.E.L.D.?_ Kali asked as she listened to the racing deluge of my thoughts.

 _I have the same feeling now as I did when Hitler took office._ My gut clenched at the memory. _I’ll be damned if I sit around idly,_ again _, while another maniac grows powerful enough to set the whole world on fire. History is not getting a chance to repeat itself today._

_Very well. Anything else I can do to help?_

I could tell it rankled Kali that her lack of wings made it impossible for her to easily accompany us and my heart went out to her. But the truth was she would be of more use here, making sure our resources were being utilized to their full potential. Besides, I didn’t intend for this to be more than a quick, flyby smash-and-grab. If Ida was lucky, I’d even put off the tongue-lashing I intended to deliver until there wasn’t an audience.

 _Keep Sharon’s shadow on her. Only engage in dire circumstances._ If Pierce had allowed the potential attack on Peggy, it was only a matter of time before Sharon fell into his crosshairs. _Find Rogers, wherever he is, and update him on everything we’ve learned so far. See if he has any new insights. I also want someone to be in touch with any other mercenary groups listed in the phone’s messages. Have our representatives explain to them how accepting their invitation is very bad for their business._

_What if they won’t listen?_

_See what their price is. Pay it. I don’t care how much. We can afford it._

Kali considered me a moment more. _If they don’t have a price?_

I allowed no hint of mercy in my thoughts. No was no more time to pussyfoot around. _Burn them to the ground. No exceptions._

 _As my empress wills it._ Kali glanced pointedly at the mercenary lying prone at our feet. _What about him?_

 _I’m taking him with. Maybe I can use him to intimidate Pierce._ And winged boars would descend from the heavens to raise the Library of Alexandria from its long lost ashes. _At the very least he’ll make a useful meat-shield._

_Very true._

_Go now._ Kali and the other Angels snapped into an identical salute, heads bowed, right fist curling over their hearts before touching their knuckle to their forehead, their feet snapping from shoulder-width apart to touching their heels together with a soft _thud_. I dipped my head in acknowledgement, my right hand cupped over my heart in a softer variation of their movement. Then they slipped away to the darkened street outside. There was a getaway van two blocks over. It would see them safely to the rendezvous where our local techs were meeting up.

Lillian and Laura appeared just as I tuned into Kali’s continued examination of the phone. Ida gave a particularly feral snarl following the meaty thud of a fist against flesh and I knew our time was running out. I led the way out the lobby doors at a dead run, shouldering the steel frames aside hard enough to fracture the glass it held. It was liberating, dropping the careful restraints I kept in place to blend in with the general populace. Always careful not to move too fast, push too hard. Afraid to draw attention just in case it put my people at risk. But here, in the dark and accompanied by my Angels, I didn’t have to hide this part of myself. Laura followed on my right, the unconscious mercenary tucked under one arm like a limp sack of potatoes. Lillian stayed half a pace off my other side so the grenade launcher hanging at her hip didn’t smack into anyone.

Multi-colored light exploded from behind them, the sudden flare throwing the deserted street around us into sharp relief. Iridescent wings burst from the sisters’ backs, their coloration a unique combination of tangerine and azure, blending from one to the other seamlessly. Though the pattern was mirror imaged from one sister to the other. As Lillian gathered me in her arms for take off, I noticed her lip-piercing was an exact match for her deep blue wingtips. She raised her eyebrows in an attempt at nonchalance. Even if our minds weren’t connected I would have seen her hesitation. Body modification was another sore point with many of the elders. Which was completely ridiculous in my opinion because every culture _ever_ had some variation of it and a single pinhole through a lip was probably one of the most tame things you could do to a body. Still, I didn’t want there to be any question in her mind on my stance.

 _It’s very tasteful,_ I complimented Lillian as she launched us into the air with several powerful beats of her wings. The Angel’s eyes crinkled above her mask in response and she threw in a quick spiral to release some of her delight. Laura grinned from our right, the cool night breeze fluttering her bobbed hair against her chin as they turned to follow the heading Kali passed to us. Her gratitude for the care I’d shown her sister caressed my mind and I allowed my aura to wrap briefly around them in reassurance before turning my attention to what lay ahead. With any luck, and due entirely to the sisters’ strained pace, we would make it to Pierce’s home in less than fifteen minutes.

Fifteen minutes was an eternity in a fight.

I lost my connection to Kali as we passed over the outskirts of the city. The call had died just seconds before. Either the other phone was destroyed or turned off. No way for us to accurately guess. Lillian and Laura brought us in high over the patchy woods surrounding the modern monstrosity Pierce called home. Lights burned dully in the hallway encircling an open-air courtyard, the neatly trimmed evergreen bushes reflected in the spotless glass walls that revealed tasteful cream-colored walls and exposed wooden beams that would have ordinarily had me drooling in envy. At the courtyard’s center was an ancient, gnarled oak of unparalleled beauty. Tiny buds were unfurling in the unseasonably warm weather and a part of me wondered how something so lovely could survive living next to unfettered evil.

Lillian drew my attention to an entire section of glass blown in on the far side of the courtyard. Pierce and a second, heartbreakingly familiar shape crouched nearby examining the damage. With his back to us, there was little to be made out from his silhouette, except the obvious need for a haircut and the astonishing broadness of his shoulders compared to his trim waist. His clothes were either the same I’d seen him in last or exact duplicates. My long lost squatter settled on his knees, unheeding of the glass digging through the heavy fabric of his pants as he stared blankly ahead. Obviously waiting for something. But I couldn’t bring myself to care about that right now.

Because at the center of the wreckage, an unconscious Ida slumped into the shattered remains of a grand piano. Her battered form curled in around the dusty silver broadsword she’d inherited from her father, crimson hair splayed across the dark wood like a halo of blood. I could feel the fractures spiderwebbing across her ribs. A bruise seeping over her old knife scar and its twin awakening around her throat in the shape of a familiar hand. My rage at her injuries rose hot beneath my skin. Bloodlust coiled in the pit of my stomach and my Angels tightened their grip on their weapons as they landed silently on the darkly shingled roof directly across from the two men, their wings disappearing from existence without so much as a whisper of light. No minor feat of control, that. No wonder Kali sent them with me. Laura took great care to set the unconscious mercenary down without so much as a _thump_ from his limp hands. Her eyes narrowed threateningly as they took in the damage done to our fellow Angel. I shook my head silently when Lillian started to raise the grenade launcher at the men.

Her silent protest was cut short by the resounding _smack_ of metal striking flesh. We stared in shock as Pierce wound up his left hand once more, the pistol held tightly in it slamming across my squatter’s face hard enough to draw blood. There was no competition between them. Even without my extra abilities I would have known my squatter was the superior warrior. Had every capability to fold Pierce five ways from Sunday and stuff his head up his own ass. But the dangerous man just… _took_ it. No sound slipped past his split lip. Not even a whimper as he simply turned his head back to its original position, making absolutely no attempt to defend himself from the assault. As if he was held powerless by some invisible force.

My breath caught in my chest and for a moment I was dizzy with the wave of raw fury and heartfelt empathy for his helplessness that threatened to swallow me. Behind me the sisters reached out to clutch at each other for support. Whether in the face of the abuse we witnessed or my reaction to it, it was hard to say. I wasn’t in any frame of mind to rationally deduce anything at the moment.

“Failure will not be tolerated,” snarled Pierce, gesturing sharply as he stared at Ida in disgust. “I needed her awake to answer my questions! You couldn’t even get that right. You’re such—” _Wham!_ “—a damn—” _Wham!_ “—disappointment!”

I jerked forward, lips pulled back in a wordless snarl as Pierce continued to rail upon the other man. Had my squatter been _nothing_ to me I never would have been able to remain idle in the face of such abuse. But he had managed to worm his way, silently and unobtrusively, into the category of _mine_ I held at the core of my being for no more reason than he’d sought shelter in my territory. No, that was a lie. His predicament seemed so similar to my own past in the few minutes we spent together. And he’d chosen to show mercy to a complete stranger when his own existence seemed to know no such luxury.

Damn whatever information Pierce might offer. The man needed to die now.

 _Empress_.

Lillian’s hand on my wrist and her plaintive mental call brought me up short. The useless rage drowning me seeped away, allowing me to think clearly once more. Control. I needed to control myself. Too many lives hung in the balance for me to just explode with no thought to the consequences of my actions. Ida needed medical attention. My squatter needed to be coaxed or lured away from Pierce before the man did any further damage to him. And I wasn’t about to sacrifice Lillian or Laura to accomplish either of those goals. So, I would be bait.

 _Lillian, stay here and be ready to provide cover fire._ Both Angels glanced over at me, their masked faces pulling in identical grimaces as I laid out the plan of attack. They could tell where this was going. _Laura, make your way into the house and be ready to pull Ida out when I give the signal. Don’t let either of them see you if you can help it._

 _And what are you going to be doing while we sit around looking pretty?_ Laura asked, shoulders slumping in resignation. Neither were friendly enough or dominant enough to challenge me like Kali would have. Though I did appreciate Laura’s attempt at humor. Was it wrong that I suddenly felt thankful Kali’s youth kept her too far away to intervene?

I could feel my eyes blaze with my barely suppressed rage as I turned my attention back on Pierce’s heaving form and both Angels were suddenly deeply interesting in examining anything that wasn’t my face. _I’m giving Pierce back his cannon fodder._

The mercenary’s bloody form took less effort than I expected to shrug across my shoulder in a firemen’s carry, allowing me to slip around the circular roof in a soundless crouch. Laura disappeared in the opposite direction, her footsteps just as silent as she made her way to the door on the other side of what appeared to be a kitchen. The room was connected to where Ida lay. She found the door conspicuously unlocked and a deep unease rang through the three of us as Laura crept further into the house. Our answer came in the form of an older woman’s sprawled body. Her otherwise spotless, professional-looking clothing was riddled with bullet holes. The copper-scented pool beneath her was just starting to dry on the edges where Laura inspected it. The dead woman appeared to be Eastern European and judging by Pierce’s status, I assumed she was some sort of maid or caretaker. I closed my eyes against the sharp tug my heart felt at her death and forced myself to continue forward to where I would have a clear line-of-sight on the men while keeping the tree between myself and Lillian. There was nothing I could do to help her now. The living required my undivided attention.

My foot scraped faintly against the edge of a misshapen shingle and I froze instinctively, eyes darting towards the men. Hopefully Pierce was making enough noise it would cover my stumble. Judging by the sudden tension lighting up the squatter’s frame and the subtle tilt his head gained, I realized my hope was a futile one. Though no shriek passed through my mind to hint at any hostility directed at me. Interesting.

Pierce, however, remained oblivious to the real danger.

“Eyes on me when I talk to you,” he spat, his empty hand fisting into the kneeling man’s lank chestnut locks. He jerked back on the short-hairs by my squatter’s bangs, twisting his hold cruelly when his victim’s thousand yard stare fixed on a nameless mark just over his shoulder. “I don’t care how those limp-dick Russian science freaks programmed you first, you’ll _comply with my orders_ or I’ll leave you in the Chair until you’re a vegetable.”

Whatever threat the Chair carried, and given the significance Pierce placed on the word I guaranteed it was a proper noun, it was enough for my squatter’s hands to flutter in agitation. Had he been a normal person, I suspected he would have curled into a sobbing ball at Pierce’s feet. My nostrils flared as the last of my self-control shredded itself as the ingrained need to _defend_ , to _make safe_ roared deep within.

Enough of this bullshit.

 _You two better be ready_ , I warned my Angels.

Without waiting for their reply, I shoved the mercenary from my shoulders with a quiet heave. The limp body tumbled gracelessly through the air, a rag doll abandoned once its amusement was lost. I couldn’t drag up one iota of pity when he slammed unceremoniously into the decorative stone pavers below. Pierce yelped in surprise, diving to cower behind my squatter’s motionless form, the old secretary’s eyes darting to where the softly groaning mercenary lay in an unconscious heap. I couldn’t bring myself to care what Pierce was doing beyond that. My eyes were only for my squatter’s searching gaze.

An icy blue gaze that widened slightly in recognition as I removed my hood and mask, leaning forward so the light from the house bathed my sorrowful grimace. There would be no question in his mind who I was. Not if I could help it.

“ ** _My apologies, Soldier,_** ” I said gently in unaccented Russian. “ ** _I should have come for you sooner_**.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know! Poor Bucky just doesn't get a break from this shit. But I promise Mercy will take good care of him when she gets the chance to. And now that we are back to incorporating our favorite assassin back into the story I'll be back to posting one chapter every week or so. As always your kudos and comments give me life!


	9. Chapter 8: The Asset and the Target

“ ** _My apologies, Soldier. I should have come for you sooner._** ”

The Winter Soldier and I shared exactly thirty seconds of heavy silence before Pierce remembered how to use his mouth for something other than catching flies.

“Mercedes Nilsen,” the old man murmured, something close to awe in his voice before _hunger_ seeped from his eyes to color the rest of his face. He rose slowly, one hand pushing down on the Soldier’s shoulder to lever himself upright. As if the kneeling man were of no more consequence than a piece of furniture. My hands fought the urge to fist themselves into the fabric of my pants. “You certainly are full of surprises, aren’t you?”

I didn’t even bother to glance in his direction. “You would be well advised to shut the hell up, Secretary Pierce.”

“You’re rather upset, aren’t you?”

If only he knew. “Last warning. Zip it, asshat.”

“Or what?” Pierce smirked as he shifted his grip on the silver handgun until the butt was nestled comfortably in one wrinkled palm. I noticed for all his bravado he didn’t have the guts to give up his human shield.

“Or I’ll come down there, rip your tongue out with my bare hands, and strangle you with it.”

I kept my tone light, my expression bland as I finally deigned to give him a dismissive once over. Something in my manner finally clued him in to his rapidly impending doom and the man openly hesitated for the first time since we’d met.

Satisfied he would do no further damage at the moment, I allowed my attention to fix back on my squatter, my gaze softening as I finally got a chance to inspect him closely. The same leather body armor and tacticalclothes from earlier bound his broad, muscular form. His left arm gleamed softly as the metal plates shifted against each other in a hypnotic dance. Maybe it was some sort of automatic recalibration. Or maybe it was an involuntary response to the tension strung tight in the air. Either option was plausible. Shadows played across his blank features, hiding everything except the sharp edge of his scruffy jawline and the emotionless steel-blue of his eyes. His silhouette whispered at his potential to be handsome.

“ ** _Do you remember me, Soldier?_** ” I asked eventually. I stuck to Russian, hoping it would forge a stronger link since it was the first language he used to communicate with me. And judging by the frustrated grimace on Pierce’s face, it wasn’t one his captor fully understood.

Silence stretched for a long moment as my squatter stayed conspicuously quiet.

“ ** _Can you speak, Soldier?_** ”

The metal plates shifted once more, somehow sounding more agitated. I was upsetting him. Well, as much as he could be upset. Or more likely my attempts at verbal communication were the problem. Frustration set my teeth against my bottom lip. Talk about being stuck between a rock and a hard place. There was nothing for it. I needed some sort of confirmation I was reading the situation correctly.

“ ** _Will speaking to me result in punishment?_** ”

Icy blue orbs flickered at Pierce then back to me. That was probably as much of an affirmative as I was going to get.

“ _I_ ** _’m sorry. I’ll do what I can to rectify the situation._** ”

I turned my attention back to Pierce with a heavy sigh. His calculating eyes set my teeth on edge once more as he glanced several times between the Soldier at his feet and me. Whatever he was thinking, it would doubtless end in blood and heartache. I needed a way to keep his attention fixed on me. Anything to keep him from hurting the vulnerable figure at his feet. Hopefully it would result in finally getting some damned answers from the lunatic.

“What did you do?” I demanded, unable to keep the heat from my tone as I swapped back to English. Pierce smirked openly. “Answer me, you asshole. What the hell did you do to him?”

“What makes you think I did anything? I found it this way.” Pierce’s teeth flashed as the hunger intensified. “Seemed a waste to just leave it rusting forgotten on a shelf.”

Gods above I couldn’t even breathe for the nausea coiling through my body. Pierce talked about my squatter like he wasn’t even alive. Like he was just a thing to be used and discarded at his whim.

Ghost hands slithered over my body in response to those familiar thoughts and phantom voices echoed up from the deepest pit of my nightmares. I swept the vile memories away from my mind as my body instinctively dry-heaved. It took nearly three swallows before I cleared the saliva that flooded my mouth in response to my distress. There was no time to let my past take over now. I needed to be here, alert and figuring out a way to get everyone away from this place in one piece.

“It’s a sight to behold, isn’t it?” Pierce delighted in my growing horror. He fisted a hand in the Soldier’s hair once more and yanked back to bare his throat further. My squatter swallowed convulsively but didn’t so much as twitch beyond that single movement. “Absolute obedience. Unwavering loyalty. The ultimate killing machine. No fuss, no muss. Just point and pull the trigger.”

“People are not machines,” I snarled. “They are…How dare you! You have no right—”

“Hey, I’m not responsible for creating it.” Pierce released his grip with a careless shrug. “I’m just the man with the vision and the guts to do whatever it takes to make the world a better place.”

“Rivers of bloodshed will never bring valleys of peace,” I spat at him. “You taint everything you touch when you resort to these methods.”

“I’m not afraid to get my hands dirty.”

“Your ‘better world’ can’t hide the rot at its core. It will fester and give way to chaos.”

“Would it truly be any worse than the world we live in now?” Pierce asked and I paused as some unholy passion came alive in his mind, assaulting my thoughts when I gave into the compulsion to meet his unhinged gaze. “Look at the wars being waged across the globe. The drugs that wreck entire civilizations and wholesale slaughter of finite resources for no other reason than mindless greed. And you want to let that go unchecked? Mankind’s greatest lie is freedom. The average joes on the street? They can’t be trusted to make the right choices. They’ll always, _always_ take the easy way out. Someone has to step up and take control before the damage is irreversible.”

“And you’re that person?” I shot back.

“I don’t see anyone else doing anything about it,” Pierce said simply. “Order must be restored.”

“At what cost?”

“The current estimate is twenty million.”

I stared in growing dread as Pierce let that sink in for a long moment. Part of me wished I’d misunderstood the man somehow. Even before he continued I knew I was just lying to myself.

“Just think, Mercy. Not even a _third of one percent_ of the world’s population. Just that tiny, insignificant amount and then we can finally bring lasting peace to the entire world. Are those numbers really that terrible when you think about it?”

“A single life can change the course of the future,” I said shakily, voice barely loud enough for him to hear. In my mind my Angels’ growing terror fed into my own. “And you want to sacrifice twenty million of them…”

Pierce sighed heavily, disappointment tugging at his mouth. “I had such high hopes for you,” he said with a mournful shake of his head. “But I see you need more time to come to the logical conclusion. Don’t worry. I’m a patient man. I can wait.” His hunger flooded my mind once more as his mad gaze bore into mine and I smothered my instinctive retreat as he turned his attention back to the Soldier. “Besides, I can think of some methods that might persuade you.”

I swallowed more bile at the thought. “You leave him out of this,” I demanded. Knowing even as I spoke the words they would do no good whatsoever. “He’s done nothing to deserve being drug into our fight. If you want to take a shot at me, fine. But have the guts to do it with your own strength.”

“No gun deserves to be sent into a war zone,” Pierce said patiently. As if I was a deliberately petulant student railing against his calm explanation that two plus two equaled four. “But it’s still the most effect method to get the job done.”

“He is not a weapon,” I snapped. “He’s a human being!”

“Really?” Pierce actually chuckled aloud. “Then I guess we’ll start your education right there. Up!”

The Soldier rose instantly as Pierce snapped his fingers beneath his nose. My squatter’s gaze was fixed on some distant horizon past the other man’s head and my heart clenched at what I saw. There was nothing in what little I could see of his expression. So blank it was as if someone had surgically removed anything that might be construed as personality or emotion or…life itself. Gods, I couldn’t imagine surviving such an existence. My resolve hardened as I slowly climbed to my feet. I’d find a way to free him from this cursed life.

No matter the cost.

“Your new mission,” Pierce said as he pointed at me. “Acquire the target. By any means necessary.”

That was such a B-grade movie villain thing to say. It couldn’t have been any worse if the man had twirled a pedo-mustache while he revealed more about his next step towards world domination.

Pierce didn’t bother to even glance at me as he returned the silver pistol, still splattered with crimson drops from the cuts on my squatter’s face, to the thigh holster on the Soldier’s left side. “Report back for further instructions once your mission is complete. Understood?”

“ ** _Acknowledged_**.”

Icy steel fixed on me and a shivered squirmed up my spine as the first fleeting hints of warning whispered through my mind. It was like looking into the eyes of a circling shark while you floated in the middle of the vast ocean. For the first time in over a century I was unable to curb my instinctive step backwards and the movement caused the Soldier’s nostrils to flare sharply. As if he was scenting his prey before the hunt. Inspiration struck me in that moment and I struggled not to show the relief I felt as a plan sprouted from there. First, I needed a distraction.

_Lillian, can you drop the tree between us without endangering Ida and Laura?_

The Angel, who’d been watching the unfolding events with increasing distress, didn’t let her confusion interfere with her answer for more than a beat. _Not with a grenade launcher, empress. I’d need to fix some C-4 to the truck to shape the blast properly. Though I could drop one in the middle of the boughs above them if you wanted me to get their attention._

_Do it._

_You’re at the edge of the blast radius. Shrapnel could potentially injure you._

_Let me worry about that. Line your shot up. Laura, are you ready?_

_Yes, empress._ The elder sister shifted to the far side of the piano’s shattered remains, vibrating with tension as she prepared to snatch our fallen comrade. The Solider had halved the distance between us in the time it took me to communicate with my Angels. I was grateful to see him hesitate when I called down a warning to him in Russian, his eyes darting instinctively around.

Pierce, obviously sensing something was amiss, demanded an explanation. “Translate in English. What did she say?”

“Brace for impact.”

The Soldier’s rumbling answer was cut short by the soft _schoomp_ from across the courtyard. A half second later fire erupted at the top of the magnificent old oak and I felt a twinge of regret even as I threw myself to the far side of the sloped roof. My sensitive ears were left almost useless by the sharp ringing from the concussive blast. That was okay though. I didn’t need them for a little while yet. Spreading my awareness around me once more, I scrambled upright just as Laura and Lillian disappeared in the opposite direction, Ida safely tucked in Laura’s arms. Their sunshine bright auras flared briefly as they called their magic to life, rising into the sky safely beyond anyone’s sight. I allow myself two seconds of limp relief before turning my mind back to other potential issues. Pierce was lying dazed over by the edge of the house. The Soldier was still in the courtyard, shrugging off the splintered remains of several hefty boughs as if they were toothpicks. The reminder of his inhumane strength, more specifically his enhanced body crushing mine against concrete, wracked my body with a shudder I couldn’t seem to bury. It was _not_ something I wanted to experience again any time soon. Maybe ever, if I could pull it off.

_Get Ida back to the others. Go._ My feet scrambled for purchase as I barked my orders.

There was a highway forty kilometers east of here. With a little luck, I might be able to evade capture long enough to hitch a ride from some unsuspecting motorist headed into the nation’s capital. Even in the middle of the night there was always a perpetual stream of traffic. I sprinted for the edge of the roof and launched myself across the wide expanse of lawn to land lightly in the trees beyond. Their limbs shook beneath my sudden weight but held firm enough I could use them as an alternative path through the woods. Anything to give me an edge in the hunt to come.

_We can’t leave you!_

_This isn’t up for debate._ My will wrapped firmly around them and when they offered no further protests, I gentled my grip on their minds. _Go. Inform Kali that I’ll keep the Winter Soldier occupied as long as possible. Prepare our people for whatever hell Pierce is going to bring down upon our heads. Start with our contacts in biological and nuclear warfare. You don’t wipe out twenty million people with a peashooter. I’ll get to the city as soon as I can._

_This is a terrible idea,_ Lillian grumbled and Laura let her agreement flare wordlessly across our connection before I closed my end down completely.

It wouldn’t do for them to realize how much I agreed with them.

I’d barely made it a kilometer deeper into the forest when the Soldier’s brilliant aura appeared at the edge of my awareness. The fifty meters between us didn’t feel like much of a cushion. Especially since he was steadily gaining ground. Cursing softly, I pushed myself to the edge of my capabilities. Racing haphazardly through the trees whenever I was able and keeping as close to hidden property lines as possible whenever my chosen path intersected with the slumbering civilization. A steady burn worked its way into my lungs as the kilometers raced away beneath the pounding of my boots against the hard-packed earth. If the circumstances had been different, my blood would have positively soared at the glory in the swift pace, alive in a way not too dissimilar to a well done spinning performance. Now, the innate joy running brought with it was swallowed by my growing dismay as the Soldier marched ever closer. Effortlessly matching my pace no matter how hard I pushed my body.

_Don’t think about it,_ I ordered myself firmly. _Focus on the next step. And the next. Focus on what you can control and don’t lose sight of the goal._

The goal being an uncharacteristically deserted strip of asphalt that nearly brought tears to my eyes when I stumbled upon it. Of course the one time I actually _wanted_ some traffic around, the assholes were conspicuously absent. Just my freaking luck. I raced beside the highway at the same desperate pace, the customary late night sounds still muffled as my ears attempted to work past the abuse they’d suffered almost an hour ago. My awareness was steadily shrinking as the energy I required to keep it was being diverted for more important tasks. Like breathing. A thin layer of sweat pooled in-between my shoulder blades and at both armpits. The cool night air whispered across my face and I took an abnormally deep breath, upsetting my lungs’ rhythm momentarily. A quick glance over my shoulder revealed the Soldier had finally worked himself into sight. Which would have been more impressive if it didn’t mean I was that much closer to being forcibly kidnapped by him.

Gods, why was this my life?

An overpass reared up just on the other side of the hill I crested. At its base was an abnormally high chainlink fence. Damn near six meters high if I was going to guess and with the looped razor wire at the top, impossible for a normal person to get past unscathed. Which meant it had the slimmest possibility of slowing my pursuer down for exactly two seconds. Maybe. If I was lucky…

Putting on another burst of speed, I slipped my staff from its sheath and extended it with a touch. Behind me the steady _thud-thud-thud_ of the Soldier’s boots doubled their intensity. There was no ragged breathing to accompany the increased excursion and I almost gave in to the temptation to stare incredulously over my shoulder. Apparently it had become my lot in life to be constantly astonished by the man stalking my every step. What god had I managed to offend that would…well, truth be told I’d offended more than my share of gods over the decades. Best to just leave that thought alone for now.

I dug my staff into the ground just shy of the fence, using my momentum to vault myself up and over the razor wire with a grunt. For an eternal moment I floated upside down through the air, my gaze flickering from the unnervingly silent form racing towards the fence to a light-kissed shadow that filled me with hope for the first time tonight. The semi wasn’t anything special but I could have kissed it anyway. Because it was a chance. A chance to actually make it out of here without a fight. A quick tuck and roll had me back on my feet in a heartbeat, my spear shrinking once more without any conscious effort on my part. The promise of freedom made me lightheaded. Or maybe it was the slightly hysterical edge my breathing had gained. Not even the ominous _whump_ of the Soldier’s landing behind me, far too near given the short amount of time that had passed, was enough to slow me down. The stitch growing in my side over the last few kilometers faded along with the burn of my lungs. I had to get up the embankment. Even if it was by one stumbling foot in front of the other. Had to get across the road. Get across the road and time the jump so I could hit the semi as it passed underneath—

A heavy form slammed into my back and we tumbled to the ground, asphalt scraping against our exposed flesh. Though I was more than a little startled by the muscular cushion beneath me that took the brunt of the road rash. That didn’t stop me from snarling under my breath as I grappled with the Soldier’s ruthless hold. Our struggle brought us to the center of the road, limbs thrashing and bodies tumbling over and over as we both tried to gain the advantage. My heart slammed frantically against my chest as he gently swatted my staff from my sweaty grip. It clanked dully as it rolled just beyond my reach. I strained for a long, futile second before refocusing on slipping out of the Soldier’s full-body pin.

_Shitshitshitshit._

I did _not_ have time for this. There was less than a minute before the truck passed our location. If I didn’t manage to get on it then, I probably wasn’t walking away from this. Not without doing something extreme.

“ ** _Please_** ,” I begged and the Soldier cocked his head slightly. A muted whisper of confusion and melancholy greeted me from his mind as he hesitated. “ ** _Please, I don’t want to hurt you._** ”

Steel blue eyes blinked slowly in response. I turned my own gaze aside and allowed my head to fall back in despair. He’d already suffered so much. I didn’t want to be counted among those who scarred him.

“ ** _Please_** …”

Flashing red and blue lights caused us both to flinch. The Soldier rose to crouch over the top of me as a motorcycle engine roared to life at the wood’s edge about ten meters away. His flesh hand dropped to the pistol at his thigh while the metal one hovered between us and the lights’ disorienting glare. Shielding me I realized distantly as the engine quickly drew closer. Then I was gripped by a more immediate horror. Lights meant people.

People couldn’t see the Soldier and live.

“Police! Put your hands behind your head and step away from the girl!” shouted the officer as he hurriedly dismounted from the bike and I wanted to scream a warning. Beyond the overpass I could see the truck bearing down quickly. Now was the only chance I would get.

Curling up into a tight ball, I planted both feet in the Solder’s diaphragm and heaved with all my strength. A soft grunt was the only hint at his surprise as he tumbled back down the embankment we’d climbed a moment ago. I rolled back to my feet, hand closing on my staff just as the semi’s cab reached the overpass. It was now or never.

“Run!” I screamed at the shocked patrolman and I sprinted towards the concrete barrier at the bridge’s edge. The jump was not my most elegant. Nor the landing anything close to gossamer. It was a desperate bid for freedom and only possible by punching my spearhead through the roof of the container as my momentum caused me to overshoot my target. I dangled off the roof for a single, heart-stopping moment, my feet scrambling for purchase against the smooth metal siding. Finally I managed to get just enough traction that I clamor back on top. Sprawling flat on my back, I couldn’t entirely swallow my hysterical giggle. I’d managed to survive another fight. And was mostly unscathed. It was a godsdamned miracle.

My triumph was short-lived as the unmistakable sound of gunshots rang out from the overpass. I looked up just in time to see the patrolman, bathed in the light of his motorcycle, collapse. Judging by the missing half of his skull, he was dead before he hit the ground. My hunter stalked out of the shadows. The Soldier paused long enough to pinpoint the direction of my escape and then climbed aboard the motorcycle, kicking it upright as he pealed off down the road. There was an on-ramp back where we’d first exited the woods. I knew he’d make the distance up in a heartbeat.

Muttering under my breath, I slumped back down on the trailer, letting the cool metal offer some comfort as I prayed the driver wasn’t a strict observer of speed limits. Ever kilometer gained increased my chances of not dying. Or worse, becoming Pierce’s newest experiment.

———————————————————————————————————————————————

Dawn was fast approaching and not for the first time, I cursed whatever asshole had given the Winter Soldier his enhancements. If there was any justice in the world a meteor would fall down on their idiotic head and smash them to a billion smithereens.

I crouched unobtrusively on the roof of an outdoor amphitheater in a sleepy little suburb called Wolf Trap, about twenty minutes outside of the District of Columbia when traffic felt like cooperating. The route I’d taken to it was a convoluted, winding path that zig-zagged through patchy forests and cookie-cutter cul-de-sacs. And my newly acquired stalker had dogged me every step of the way. There were more near misses than I intended to admit to anyone, especially Kali and Sharon when I saw them again, but I’d thus far managed to avoid getting tackled to the ground again. Go me.

Unfortunately my luck appeared to have finally run out.

The Soldier was carefully prowling across the deserted grounds below me, sliding from one point of cover to the next like a phantom. All sinewy grace as he searched for my hiding place. His dark hair gleamed with sweat in the pale morning light, his barely heaving shoulders the only outward sign of our herculean endurance test that had lasted…

All.

Night.

Long.

It wouldn’t surprise me if some of the wetness soaked into my boots was blood rather than sweat. At the end, even the tactical vest’s weight had become more of hindrance than anything and I hadn’t been terribly upset to be rid of it during our last confrontation. Of course, my relief was somewhat dampened by the fact I’d been forced to rip myself free of it when the Soldier used one of the straps as a handhold during his attempt to drag me off a roof. My heart stuttered in my chest at the memory of flailing at the roof’s edge while at his mercy and the Soldier paused momentarily below, his head tilting ever so slightly towards me. Gods, could he actually hear my heartbeat? I fretted quietly for what felt like an eternity before he moved on, slinking around the small shed located next to the amphitheater’s seating and disappearing from sight once more.

Relief left me slumping against the roof’s damp concrete. Realistically it was only a matter of time before he deduced my location. I needed to make good use of the time I had left. Because there wasn’t much chance of me making another miraculous escape. Not on my own. And due to instincts that made _no damned sense_ , I was loathed to bring the wrath of my Angels down upon him. Hell, I’d known him for less time than Steve and between the two I was more inclined to let the First Avenger try his luck if he ever managed to piss them off. Which was completely ludicrous since I’d fed the Captain cookies and actually carried on multiple conversations with him. Even shared secrets between us. Not to mention the bruise score between the two men was heavily leaning in the super soldier's favor.

Speaking of the Star-Spangled Man with a Plan…

I checked once more to make sure the Soldier was far enough away to afford me some privacy and then dropped into deep meditation. Apohen stayed coiled around the core of my power as I dove towards the branches reserved for my Sentinels, her glowing orbs little more than golden slivers as she tracked my movements. The choker that bound our power had the unfortunate side-effect of feeding off her to keep its spells functioning. The closer she was to the front of my mind, the more it ate. And its appetite was vast. Possibly limitless. Though it never managed to draw enough from the ancient menace to kill her once and for all. Not that I ever considered how much more _manageable_ my life would be without her constant bickering and attempts to undermine my sense of self.

As if sensing the direction of my thoughts, and it was entirely probably since she lived inside my mind, the giant snake peeled her lips back over exposed fangs in a gruesome approximation of a smile. Like she approved of my semi-serious plotting to rid myself of her existence. What the hell did it say about us?

Unable to stand pondering the bizarre reality that was my existence further, I linked first with Kali and then Laura and Lillian in quick succession. Their overwhelming relief slammed into me and for a moment I lost myself in their explosive joy. Which quickly turned to dismay when they got the barest glimpse of my current circumstances.

_Empress!?!_

I winced slightly. I really needed to stop wringing that tone out of poor Kali. Pretty soon her hair would be more grey than mine.

_I’m alright,_ I said, going for reassuring.

Their combined disbelief and mild outrage told me I’d missed the landing zone by about a kilometer.

_Okay, so I’m not great but it’s not like I’m dead._

Which definitely didn’t go over any better.

My exasperation broke through the last of my patience and I flung my mental hands up in surrender. _Can we just skip to the part where I ask what news you have for me? We can even pretend you’ve vigorously chewed me out and I’ve delivered the next Oscar-worthy apology, complete with breathy sobs and demurely clasped hands._

_I swear, if there wasn’t so much potential danger involved I’d sick Agent Carter on you,_ Kali threatened and I couldn’t help my snort.

_Oh, yeah? Which one?_

_Both!_

Okay. That was actually a little intimidating.

_How are they?_ I asked gently. Pierce’s threat hovered in the back of my mind and I couldn’t quite shake my knee-jerk panic.

_In better shape than you,_ Kali groused before she continued with her report. _Agent 13 has barely left S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters since Director Fury’s assassination. She’s also failed to leave any messages on your personal number thus far. Which I have been checking_ — Kali’s tone took on a deeply disapproving edge and I couldn’t help my wince as I remembered I’d left the device behind with her, further cutting myself off from any support— _at your customer times. Her guard reports no suspicious activity around her person nor at her apartment. Lillian will be resuming her post shortly, so we stand a good chance of evacuating her should the situation change._

_I’ll keep her safe, empress,_ Lillian vowed, her quiet conviction soothing my nerves enough that I was able to ease my grip on their minds a little. It unnerved me that I’d failed to notice the force I’d been applying to them since we started. I needed to calm down before I accidentally hurt someone.

_What about Peggy?_ I asked.

_We have several people stationed in and around the facility. The first Agent Carter is safe. More so than you, I might add._

I ignored her accusing tone. _Good. What about…?_

_Captain Rogers and Agent Romanoff still haven’t been located._ Kali’s concern bled into her words. _Though we did receive unconfirmed reports of a missile strike in New Jersey._

Well the odds of that not being directed at the good captain were almost slim to none. _Where was the strike’s location?_

_Camp Lehigh._

The old training facility where the candidate for Project Rebirth was chosen had been decommissioned years ago. Decades even, now that I really thought about it. Some might argue it was the birth place of modern heroes. Peggy had always had a soft spot for the camp, where she’d first met and gotten to know the man who formed the core of every good thing about Captain America. Steve Rogers might not have had a tenth of the muscle the other candidates did, but his guts, smarts, and passion for justice had more than made up for it. At least, that’s the way Peggy always told it. Sometimes, when I was feeling particularly masochistic, I let myself wonder what might have happened if I accept her invitation to join the SSR back then. To accompany the Captain and his Howling Commandos on their missions instead of feeding them information from the shadows. I pushed the ‘what might have beens’ aside with some effort. There were more important things to consider now than my regrets.

_There’s no way blowing up the old S.H.I.E.L.D. facility is a coincidence._ Laura’s grim thoughts echoed all of our own feelings.

_No,_ I agreed. _Has Ida woken at all?_

_Yeah._ Kali’s tone took on a familiar, aggravated edge. It was heartening to know I wasn’t the only one that caused it to appear in her normally cheerful voice. _Only for a moment or two. Said she needed to warn you about the Winter Soldier. That it was absolutely imperative you not engage him under any circumstances. Then she passed back out. The healers are looking after her now._

While none of my people could match my magical abilities, our healers had millennia’s worth of experience using medicinal herbs and advanced healing techniques from our home realm, which made them the second best thing in a pinch. I was a little putout that I’d misread who Kali’s exasperation was directed towards.

Still, I tried to keep my tone light. _Her evaluation of his abilities is…accurate._

_All the more reason for you to let us come get you._

_Not yet._

_Why not?_ Kali was well passed vexation now. Bordering on insubordination if I was going to be totally honest. Which should not have amused me as much as it did.

_Because the Solider is one piece of the puzzle. I need the big picture. And I can’t get that if all of our resources are spent coddling me. It doesn’t do us any good to use our army to whisk me away to a fortress if that fortress is destroyed by Pierce’s schemes. The sooner we figure out what we’re up against and how we stop it with minimum casualties, the sooner I can send up smoke signals so you can swoop in to pluck me from danger’s grasp._

_Speaking of the big picture,_ Laura cut in before Kali could rise to my bait. _My bondmate, Connie, has been tracing the accounts used to pay the mercenaries they sent to attacked us. There are several transactions involving a shipping company named Ty’s Fun Inc, that dabbles in some property management. Mostly warehouses and that kind of thing._

_Good cover for moving troops and weapons around without raising suspicion,_ Lillian pointed out. _Even if the name is ridiculous_.

_That’s what Connie thought too. She’s noticed a huge uptick in activity over the past twelve hours at multiple addresses just outside the capital. As well as towns near major military installations across the nation. Most of which have experienced a substantial increase in reports to their infirmaries._

_Reports of what?_ Kali asked.

_It varies from base to base. Mostly simple things like the flu or food poisoning._

Things that easily masked more serious conditions and were potentially debilitating for the troops stationed there. Our enemies were assembling quickly. And we still weren’t any closer to figuring out what the hell they intended to do than when Steve and I traded information in the parking structure yesterday. Except for the fact that twenty million people would die if we didn’t get ahead of the coming storm.

I fought the urge to groan in frustration. _Do we have a personnel estimate yet of those moving into the warehouses?_

_Thirty thousand and climbing._

I swore quietly, mind racing as I tried to look at all the angles based on the information available. Containing that large a force through any sort of physical means would be noisy. No way even my Angels could do it and keep our community hidden. I needed to find a way to preserve my people’s anonymity for as long as possible while still interfering with whatever insanity Pierce intended to unleash via these troops. Just because the world felt like it was ending didn’t mean it stopped turning. If we managed to survive this apocalypse, my people’s daily lives needed to still be there for them after the dust settled.

Meaning any kind of direct assault was out. Okay then. Time for a different approach.

_Sound a general call,_ I ordered Kali. _I want our most experienced soldiers, with an emphasis on sabotage. Call any local contacts we might have near the besieged towns. Anyone with favors owed to us who can be trusted to control themselves in close quarters._

Over the years of my reign I’d run into my fair share of things that went bump in the night. Not all of them remembered how to bump gently. Actually, scratch that. Most didn’t.

_Do you want to withdraw from our negotiations?_ Kali asked, confused.

_No. If they’ll walk away, paid or no, they’re in the clear. But if they won’t drop the contracts, we need to be prepared to neutralize them._ _Focus our efforts on their supplies. Food, weapons, communications. Anything that doesn’t have a habit of shooting back._ I hesitated a moment before adding in a much more subdued tone. _And please, for the love of everything holy, do not get yourselves killed. I’m already going to have nightmares for months after all this shit is over._

_You do realize this will leave the capital severally understaffed to handle a direct assault from Pierce, right?_

_That’s what Captain America is for. Between him and the Black Widow, they should be able to put up quite a resistance. With a little luck, they’ll be able to keep this from turning into another Chitauri invasion._

_And where exactly will you be while we play_ Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy _?_ Kali asked with a resigned huff.

That had me giving my own annoyed sigh in return. _With any luck I’m going to be in the exact right place to lend Steve a hand whenever he decides to resurface._

My worry made me less understanding of the Captain’s probably completely reasonable radio silence. Stupid super soldiers who stupidly disappeared doing stupid things without having the decency to leave a stupid message. Why did I always have to befriend the ones that made me worry?

_I’m staying behind with at least one security team,_ Kali said firmly. _With a healer on standby._

_That’s…probably a good idea,_ I admitted grudgingly. _But just one._

_Of course it’s a good idea. I came up with it._

Amused despite the seriousness of our situation, I couldn’t help wrapping my aura fondly around all three of them for a brief instant before I rose from the depths of my mind. The rest of my people would have to wait for an audience until this fiasco was under control. Hopefully there wouldn’t be too many fires for me to put out at our next group meditation.

Settling back into my skin, I noticed two very important things right off the bat. One, the sun was definitely making its presence known over the horizon. I’d spent far too much time away from reality. And two, the Soldier was conspicuously missing from the grounds below.

I sat up abruptly, teeth gritting against the ache of overworked muscles too long in one position as I frantically search the area. My awareness expanded beyond the small sphere I kept for meditative purposes. It brushed against a chipmunk or two racing between the seats directly below. A middle-aged man walked sedately on the sidewalk, his blindness whispering through my senses and confirmed by the familiar white and red striped cane tapping just ahead of him. Another man, slumped across a nearby park bench, shifted restlessly beneath the thick layer of newspapers he used to ward off the early morning chill. There was something off in the way his body felt but I didn’t have time to examine it more carefully.

Because less than seven meters from my position, the Winter Soldier crouched at the top of an enormous weeping willow, steely gaze calm as I tried to have my resulting heart attack as quietly as possible. I clutched at my chest, forcing my breath back into some sort of steady rhythm.

In, out. In, out. No reason to panic. It wasn’t like there was a huge, terrifying, deadly assassin watching me with the kind of concentration that should have rightly eviscerated me on the spot…Yeah this line of thought was definitely not helping.

The Soldier gave a slow blink through the frost-covered leaf screen of his perfect camouflage. Our eyes met briefly and I felt the tiniest twinge of amusement brush against my mind. My brain shorted out momentarily as I tried to come to grips with the fact that the most feared assassin in the world thought it was funny that he’d startled me. Indignation exploded through my shock. Here I was trying to talk myself down from a panic attack and he just sat there _laughing_ at me. Scowling openly, I stabbed a finger in his direction as I gave him one of my patented _looks_ that was guaranteed to bring even the most obstinate Angel to order.

_That’s not funny, you jerk!_ I mouthed soundlessly and earned myself another slow blink for my trouble. Huffing quietly, I collapsed on my elbows, head tilted back so I could stare beseechingly at the coming dawn. What had I ever done to deserve this?

Before I could question the intelligence behind sprawling on my back before a man with a history of attacking me or better yet why it felt perfectly natural to share his amusement at my expense, a startled yell from behind me had both of us snapping to attention. Below on the sidewalk huddled the blind man, his arms raised defensively as the other man from the bench loomed above him, a rusted pistol wavering in the air between them. I didn’t need a death vision to tell me where this was going. A glance at the Soldier revealed nothing except for cold neutrality. Which made sense in a way. Engaging random civilians could potentially jeopardize his mission. Between his reaction at the warehouse and the abuse layered on him at Pierce’s home for his perceived failure, I was beginning to imagine what tortures his handlers employed to ensure his obedience. It would make anyone think twice before stepping out of line.

But just because the Soldier couldn’t interfere didn’t mean I wasn’t going to.

Something in my face must have given away my decision because silvery blue eyes narrowed in warning. If Kali or Sharon were here, they would have happily informed him disapproving looks had about the same effect on me as a snowball did on hellfire. Of course, they probably would have been too busy forcibly sitting on me to offer pointers on how to keep me out of harm’s way. Not that their tactics worked one hundred percent of the time either.

The soft thud of booted feet chased me to the edge of the roof, where the faint whistle of his failed grab warned me how close I’d come to capture. Again. I pushed my unease aside as I landed with a controlled roll. My momentum allowed me to pop back up, sprinting towards the men at top speed. Time slowed and for one horrible second I was convinced I wouldn’t get there in time. The pistol’s hammer cocked back as if in slow motion. The resulting flinch from the victim as the unmistakable noise revealed the abrupt end of his life. A desperate cackle from the attacker as his hands trembled so badly he wasn’t capable of holding the weapon steady.

Then I was right on top of them, tackling the blind man out of the way as a _bang_ set my ears to ringing once more. Fire tore through my left thigh, it’s only blessing the fact it missed anything vital buried in the thick muscle. I clamped my teeth shut on the shout of pain that lodged itself in my throat. Getting shot ranked about as high on my list of ‘fun things not to do again’ as swallowing bleach or scrubbing down with a group after exposure to nuclear material.

Hitting the ground _hurt_. Forcing myself into a crouch hurt worse but it was the only way to shield the victim from his would-be murderer. Startled bloodshot eyes regarded me as the pistol trembled between us, his hands jerking unsteadily and half-rotted teeth gaping in comical surprise. Or it would have been comical if I didn’t recognize the glazed madness in his eyes. The would-be murderer was higher than a kite. Which was not something I could fix from a distance. At my back the blind man whimpered softly, hands buried in the soft fabric of my jacket even as the stress of the situation became too much and he passed out. My injured leg began quivering beneath the strain and I could feel the cool slick of blood oozing beneath my clothes. It wouldn’t have been life threatening under normal circumstances but in a fight a fraction of a second could mean the difference between life and death. Maybe if I could talk the attacker down we’d avoid anyone dying.

“The hell man. Get your own score,” the druggy slurred before he took aim once more.

Or not.

An impossibly large shadow rose behind the attacker, the familiar silver hand gleaming in the dawn light as it reached forward to snap his spine with a precise jerk of his chin. The body crumpled like a puppet who’s strings were cut. I blinked once before letting my gaze settle on the Winter Soldier’s flat expression.

Okay, then. I guess there were worse ways that could have gone.

His gaze tracked over me, focusing with laser precision on my wounded leg. The tiniest frown tugged at the corners of his mouth as he knelt to examination the damage more closely. I swallowed against my instinctive flinch as gentle hands gripped my thigh and took the opportunity to get my first good look at my hunter’s face. Pale skin and hollow eyes whispered of ill health, regardless of his robust body. Dark scruff softened the granite sharp line of his jaw. His eyes, more grey than blue now that I was this close, missed nothing as they tracked restlessly over my face. Though they never quite managed to meet my gaze for more than a second. There was something familiar about him. I could swear I’d seen him before but for the life of me, I couldn’t pinpoint where. Something about the woods behind him only added to the nagging familiarity.

My internal musings were abruptly cut short as the Soldier, apparently convinced I wasn’t in any danger of dying at the moment, turned his blank stare on to the man I was guarding. His hand snapped to the gun strapped to his thigh and I didn’t think before I reached out to halt his progress. We both flinched, breathless with shock at my audacity. I couldn’t help pressing my advantage though.

“ ** _Please, Soldier,_** ” I begged softly in Russian. “ ** _Please, he hasn’t done anything wrong_**.”

That got me a fleeting glance and a clenched jaw.

I needed a new tactic. “ ** _Pierce said to acquire me by whatever means necessary, right? Spare him and I’ll come with you willingly. No more running. I swear it. I’ll walk right into Pierce’s waiting arms if you ask me to_** _._ ”

The side-eye he gave me very pointedly expressed his lack of concern about my offer of cooperation. Between us, the acidic scent of distress rose as the metal plates of his arm danced with faint whirring noises, confusing me more. I’d never met anyone who dislike violence so much while so carelessly doling it out at the slightest provocation.

“ ** _Please, Soldier_**.” I sighed in growing frustration. “ ** _Help me understand. The man isn’t a threat. You’ve accomplished your mission. Why kill him?_** ”

His metal arm recalibrated once, twice, before he peeled his lips apart like it physically hurt. “ ** _The Asset is to remove any potential witnesses, without exception, should they arise during the course of the mission._** ”

The words, bitten off and spat out with the flat rhythm of an old recitation, were a nasty sucker punch. There were so many things wrong with the statement. The lifeless tone of his voice. The obvious repetition that had ingrained the words into the very fabric of this man’s existence. The way he had to force the words past his lips, as if each syllable was ripped straight from his flesh. The fact that he referred to himself in the third person like a godsdamned machine. I fought against my instinctive fury on behalf of the man and forced myself to focus. Verbal communication was costly for him. I wouldn’t let his sacrifice be in vain. That required focusing on something other than my compromised emotional state.

Okay, so his orders were to remove potential witnesses. I could work with that. Orders were just another form of contracts and I spent my life surrounded by them. We just needed to find a suitable middle ground between his literal interpretation and my goal of keeping the man alive. Glancing at the man slumped on the sidewalk, my eyes caught on his nearby cane. Hope burned through me anew as I turned back.

“ ** _But he’s not a potential witness_**.”

I hurried to explain when the Soldier fixed me with confused glare.

“ ** _He’s not. He’s a blind man who passed out before you spoke. There’s no way he could identify you. Either of us. There’s no threat._** ” Without thought I reached up to cup his face gently in my hands. The Soldier flinched again and I waited for a long, breathless moment as a tremor racked his body. My own muscles ached in sympathy at the tension locking him up tight. Still, he never made a move to pull away. “ ** _Please, Soldier. There’s no threat. You’ve followed your orders. You’ve completed your mission. Please, let’s just get out of here. We’ll go wherever you want, just…spare him. Please._** ”

An eternity passed as I waited to see if it would be enough.

Abruptly the Soldier rose to his feet, his flesh hand closing around my left bicep and leveraging me up by his implacable grip. I followed his urging without protest, almost weak in my sudden relief. The Soldier drug me without preamble towards the deep shadows of the nearby woods. Glancing back at the men we left behind, I couldn’t help the faint stirring in my heart at what they represented. The vast potential for violence, sure, but also the desire for peace. The ability to show mercy when presented with the opportunity. Whatever damage had been wrought on him, the man beside me wasn’t the soulless monster everyone claimed he was. He just needed the freedom to choose for himself.

“ ** _Thank you, Soldier_** ,” I whispered softly, the knuckles of my free hand brushing almost shyly against his grip on my arm.

There was no verbal reply but as he led me deeper into the forest’s darkened heart, his hand transitioned to wrap loosely around my wrist.


	10. Chapter 9: Landmines

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please be aware. There are difficult references made in this chapter. Particularly about past abuse.

The safe house the Soldier led me to was a small, two-story colonial set back into the forest from the rest of a middle-class cul-de-sac, completely screened in by thick groves of deciduous trees that were just beginning to bud in the anticipation of spring. His check-in with Pierce had been deeply disturbing but mercilessly short. The asshole supreme had given us directions to our destination, voice unbearably smug as he dropped as many vague threats as humanly possible in the forty seconds he was on the line. Fortunately his orders had been just as concise:

Go directly to the nearest safe house and wait for extraction.

Don’t let me escape or allow any harm to befall me.

Prepare for his next mission.

Judging by the thick melancholy waifing off the Soldier, I had a fairly accurate idea what his next mission would entail. After some internal debate, I decided to leave him to his thoughts for now. We hadn’t shared a single word since he’d divested me of my staff and iPod shortly after we left the outdoor theater. Both had ended up in the river just inside the tree line. I'd paused long enough to fix an image of the location in my mind to share with my Angels the next chance I got and then I attached myself to the Soldier’s hip, surrendering my wrist to his capture without protest. The tension singing through his body eased significantly over the duration of our hike. I'd found myself relaxing as well in the steadily growing light as morning slunk by on cats’ feet.

Once the Soldier was satisfied the place was secure, we hopped the safe house’s tall privacy fence effortlessly, the backyard it guarded completely bare of anything that might hint at it being lived in. Well, effortlessly on the Soldier’s part. The thigh that had taken the bullet earlier wasn’t my biggest fan right now. Though its protest was confined to a brief attempt at buckling. The Soldier eyed me critically but made no move to intervene when I kept myself upright through sheer force of will alone. A simple keypad was tucked unobtrusively by the back door and the Soldier entered a nine digit code without pause. The lock clicked softly as the door swung open on silent hinges. I was too busy petting the gorgeous river rock encasing the outside of the house to notice the Soldier waiting for me to follow him through until he scuffed his boot pointedly. Heat tinged my cheeks as I reluctantly tore myself free.

“Sorry,” I muttered distractedly, my gaze lingering on the beautiful variations of sandy-grey hues even as the Soldier firmly locked the door once more, by way of a second keypad on the inside. He disappeared into the house like a phantom without a backwards glance. Clearing the building if I had to guess. That was fine. I could entertain myself until he returned.

The exterior stonework was probably original to the house, as were the wide beams spanning the high ceiling of the room just off the back door. Too bad their natural beauty was hidden beneath a thick layer of light-colored paint that probably started its life as white. Decades of neglect and enough cigarettes to give the entire state lung cancer left it dingy tar-yellow. I wrinkled my nose at the thick rust-brown shag carpet some moron from the ‘60s or ‘70s thought was acceptable to vomit all over what was probably beautiful hardwoods. Unable to resist the temptation, I gingerly crouched down to yank at a loose edge in the carpet, tipping almost entirely upside-down to peek beneath the layer of hideous. Sure enough, oaky gorgeousness waited for me. Booted feet appeared at the edge of my vision and I glanced up to where the Soldier stared at me in muted confusion.

“ ** _It’s an absolute outrage_** ,” I informed him, remembering this time to use Russian as I climbed to my feet. The hasty bandage I’d previously made out of a ragged strip tore from my turtleneck pulled against the open bullet holes on the outer edges of my thigh. Judging by the resulting twinge, I’d started the wound seeping again. It would need tending soon. But right now I was too distracted to properly care. “ ** _Seriously, who puts shag carpet on floors this lovely? I should have the person responsible drug into the street and shot._** ”

The Soldier’s arm recalibrated softy as his expression shuttered once more.

“ ** _You’re right,_** ” I admitted as if he’d expressed his unease in so many words. “ ** _I’m overreacting. I’m sorry. I just hate to see beautiful architecture ruined by fads. Take this fireplace for example._** ”

A quick swipe of my hands on my hips got rid of the thin layer of grime I’d collected from the underside of the carpet. Easing past my silent audience, I strode over to the once-lovely brick cladding that rose all the way to the top of the second story. Someone had decided to slap grey paint over another offending layer of white across the entire brick expanse. Probably some amateur’s attempt at antiquing it.

“ ** _I’ll bet if you peeled all this junk off you’d find some fabulous 1800s brickwork_** ,” I said. The paint softened the sharp bite of the bricks’ edges and I gave them a gentle pet. “ ** _Everyone thinks you have to change things to make them interesting and that’s not true. They just have to be given a chance to be themselves, that’s all. To be authentic, you know what I mean?_** ”

The heavy silence had me glancing back over my shoulder in time to catch the Soldier’s head tilting gently to the side. My blush returned with a vengeance and not for the first time I wished for skin capable of some shade other than vampiric death or overripe tomato. Biting my lip, I shifted uncomfortably beneath the weight of his blank stare, one arm wrapping around my waist a little self-consciously.

“ ** _Sorry_** ,” I muttered as my fingers continued to trace patterns over the brickwork. “ ** _Just…just ignore me. It’s not important right now._** ”

The Soldier tilted his head the other way. Then, after some sort of internal debate, he crossed the room to stand beside me. His flesh hand hesitantly rested near mine, his gaze taking on the faintest gleam of interest as he inspected every inch of the fireplace before turning his attention back to me. I grinned hesitantly in response and was delighted when he gave another slow blink. Like the ones from the tree. It was probably the closest he could come to expressing any sort of positive emotion. I basked endlessly in the tiny victory.

Suddenly the Soldier’s nostrils flared sharply. I froze as he dropped beside me, hands reaching up to palpate my injured thigh despite my aborted step back. His fingertips came away wet with crimson. A frown tugged at his lips and he glanced back up, his gaze fixing just short of meeting mine.

“ ** _Maintenance required,_** ” he said firmly.

I didn’t bother smothering my fond half-smirk. “ ** _Yeah. I should actually do something about that before I ruin the carpet worse than it already is, huh?_** ”

The Soldier gave a noncommittal grunt as he surged upright. His flesh hand resumed its customary hold around my wrist as he tugged me deeper into the house. I got a brief glimpse of the small kitchen and breakfast nook just off the main living area before the Soldier’s insistent grip forced me down a cramped, dimly lit hallway. More smoke had soaked into a terrible Victorian inspired flowery wallpaper most grandmothers would coo over. My nose wrinkled again as I saw variations of it infested more than one room we passed them. The whole place needed a thorough gut-job. My hands itched for my tablet and stylus so I could begin planning. Which honestly shouldn’t have been my first reaction to being held prisoner in a slightly dilapidated fixer-upper. But whatever fear most would consider an appropriate response was conspicuously missing as I allowed myself to be led into an outdated guest bath. The Soldier might not have been much of a conversationalist and our interactions were stilted due to the vast minefield that was our combined trauma but there was something in his abrupt, slightly awkward attempts to look after me I found ridiculously endearing.

The Soldier wasted no time in pushing me to sit on the counter and then pulling a fully stocked med kit, along with a dark wash cloth, from beneath an old iron-streaked sink. Trying to ignore the fact I was cut off from the only exit in the room, I amused myself by debating the pros and cons of granite countertops verses marble for aesthetic purposes as I waited for him to retreat back to the hallway so I could close the door. The space was definitely wide enough for a double vanity. Maybe it was pure laziness that kept the original renovators from adding it at the time.

My musings were cut short by nibble fingers making short work of the button on my pants. Panic, raw and sickeningly familiar, clawed its way up past my momentary shock. I jerked beneath his grasp, nearly cracking the mirror with how hard my body flattened against it as I attempted to scramble free.

“ ** _Solider?_** ” I gasped, staring at him with wide eyes. “ ** _What…? What are you doing?_** ”

The Soldier huffed impatiently before dragging me back in place by my belt loops. I almost swallowed my tongue as my throat knotted itself into a pretzel. My hands frantically clawed at his when they yanked at my zipper and the Soldier damn near growled as my struggles continued to hinder his attempts to divest me of my pants. Eventually he snagged both my wrists in one wide metal palm, tucking them against his chest to force me closer as he pushed more insistently at the offending clothing article. The press of my hips against the cheap laminate kept it in place at the moment but strain was already causing the seams to give before his stubborn insistence. Black lights winked across my vision and I recognized the pinched feeling in my lungs. I was hyperventilating. Badly. As in about to pass out due to lack of oxygen badly. Which was saying something since my unique heritage made my limits on par with most super humans I met. I instinctively clutched at the leather straps of his body armor.

Deep within my core, I felt the first sinister rumblings as Apohen responded to my panic. The choker’s draw on her power might have left her weakened, but the monster was a canny old thing and I wouldn’t put it past her to do something drastic. My eyes burned as my emotions spiraled into terminal velocity.

“ ** _Stop_**!”

The Soldier paused at my desperate sob. The metal plates of his arm shifted restlessly with a high pitched whine.

“ ** _Please. Stop. Just…stop…please._** ”

I shifted restlessly, instinct driving me to dislodge his flesh hand from where it rest against my bare hip. The distressing touch eased back, but it didn’t disappear entirely. Apohen halted her advance, willing to let this ride for now. I needed to gain some sort of peace back before her patience ran out.

“ ** _Maintenance required_** ,” the Soldier repeated, though his voice had softened considerably. It helped almost as much as the grip holding me flush against him loosening to something that would more accurately be described as a cradle.

“ ** _I know. I know I need to patch my leg up,_** ” I whispered. It felt like my throat had been infested by sandpaper as I swallowed breathlessly. “ ** _But not…I can’t…Please, let me do it. I’m not…I don’t handle people touching me…well._** ”

“ ** _Maintenance required._** ”

Desperation made me more honest than I would have normally dared. “ ** _Yeah, I heard you the first time. That’s not the issue here. People…it always hurts…when people touch…_** ”

“ ** _Maintenance—_** ”

“ ** _Please! I don’t want—_** ”

“ ** _Maintenance…only…_** ”

I blinked up at him, our eyes meeting for the briefest instant before his skittered away like a pair of nervous buntings to alight on my damp cheek. There was no lust in his mind. No arousal or insidiousdesire. Just faint concern that was as oddly muted as the rest of him. The Soldier had absolutely no intention of using me or manipulating me in any fashion. He was just trying to help. I couldn’t say the same for most people I ran amuck. My eyes fluttered shut as I swallowed again, hard. Several measured breaths helped clear my mind. The aroma of tart sweat, leather, and the odd tang from his metal arm was particularly useful in banishing the rank mildew that assaulted me from my memories.

_It won’t be the same,_ I told myself over and over again. From her hiding place, Apohen scoffed openly and her mockery only fueled my determination. I’d prove her wrong. Even if it killed me.

_Not the same. He won’t hurt me. He won’t…he’s not like them._

I was mildly surprised at how easy it was to fool myself into believing it. As the acceptance settled across my mind, Apohen disappeared back into my core, her presence gone as if it’d never existed in the first place. A highly suspicious reaction, if I was going to be honest with myself. I’d have to drag some answers out of her later. Now though, now I took the time to count myself through another series of measured breaths until my heart finally ended the impromptu salsa it had been attempting since my companion first laid hands on my pants.

It took every last ounce of courage I had left to push out the words the Soldier was waiting for.

“ ** _Okay. Okay, let’s…let’s do this,_** ” I whispered, voice soft enough anyone with normal hearing wouldn’t have been able to make out the words. Fortunately that wasn’t a problem for the man before me.

The Soldier’s hands released me, stooping to tug impatiently at the knot holding my impromptu bandage in place. The steady trickle of blood and continuous movement from earlier left it frustratingly tight. A tiny frown pinched the Soldier’s face for a moment before he extracted a razor sharp combat knife from one of the hidden sheathes at his back. I couldn’t help my amused snort as the wicked-looking blade whispered through the cloth with all the resistance of a moonbeam through shadows.

“ ** _Kinda overkill, dontcha think?_** ” I teased breathlessly, more than a little desperate for anything that could help take my mind of the current situation.

My companion gave no indication he’d heard me as the knife disappeared back in its sheath. His hands fisted in the wrinkles forming near my knees and once more I had to take a moment to breathe through the frantic beating of my heart. The Soldier remained patient, standing as still as any statue I’d ever seen until I arched my hips off the counter in silent permission, quivering arms fighting to take my weight. Even then his movements stayed gentle as he tugged my pants just far enough down to expose my wounds. I gritted my teeth against the pull of half-dried blood on the jagged edges and the Soldier gave an encouraging grunt as he quickly started one of the washcloths soaking in the sink.

The constant rush of adrenaline that had kept me alive all night was crashing hard after this latest surge. My head felt heavy, almost like it was stuffed full of cotton and no amount of self-control could still the faint trembling of my hands. Still, I forced myself to hunched forward to inspect the damage up close for the first time. My spine twinged in protest as I contorted myself further to look at the exit wound while keeping my leg as still as possible.

“ ** _At least there’s no bullet to dig out. That’s nice,_** ” I said after a moment too long in silence. “ ** _It’s important to keep your mind on the positives sometimes. Life’s too full of bullshit to let it get you down all the time. Take this house for example. I bet if someone put a little TLC into the place, it could be gorgeous._** ”

The Soldier handed over the washcloth and I couldn’t help the smile tugging at my lips as I realized he’d heated the water to a comfortable temperature before preparing the cloth. The scent of honey-warmed contentment was slowly soaking into the room, helping soothe my lingering nerves and fatigue as I scrubbed the wound sites free from any lingering blood, dried or otherwise. All the while I filled the silence with mindless babble about possible renovation designs for the house. The noise helped to ground me in the reality of events, not the panicked reimagining of what they could be. Which would send me into a useless thought spiral in a heartbeat. At least my companion showed no sign of annoyance at my chatter. He listened attentively, sometimes offering a slow blink if I made a quip about something and sometimes just watching me with that slight head-tilt I was beginning to recognize as genuine interest. The washcloth had to be rinsed twice before I was satisfied with the cleaning but the Soldier gave no indication he was growing impatient. He simply accepted the cloth back, rising it with fresh water until the runoff was clear, and wrung it out thoroughly before surrendering it once more without a word.

“ ** _Okay, so now we just gotta plug the holes_** ,” I muttered. The med kit appeared at my elbow as if summoned and I couldn’t help the grin I shot towards the Soldier as he stood nearby, arms clasped behind his back in parade rest. “ ** _Has anyone ever told you you’re amazing?_** ”

His eyes widened slightly, flickering uncertainly towards my face before fixing on a point just past my left shoulder. Behind him, the distressed whirring of his metal arm gave me the answer he couldn’t.

“ ** _No, I’ll bet they never do_** ,” I whispered sadly. Clearing my throat, I forced myself to continue in a slightly louder tone as I dug out the supplies I would need for the wrap. “ ** _Which is a crying shame because I’ve never met anyone better at anticipating others' needs. And I know I didn’t say it properly before, so I’m going to now: thank you for, you know, helping me. For listening when I was scared. It really…it made it easier to trust you wouldn’t hurt me. And thanks also for…for not taking advantage of the situation. Not many people are that…kind._** ”

The Soldier hesitated, his gaze dragging slowly to its previous spot on my cheekbone. Another slow blink passed between us and I beamed at him. He titled his head as he closely inspected the wide pull of my lips. The corners of his own mouth twitched slightly and I couldn’t help the delight I felt shining across my face at his almost smile. Judging by the panicked glance he shot at me, that sort of thing was probably punishable by some horrific torture.

“ ** _You can smile around me if you want,_** ” I said, attempting to ease the sudden tension by winking as he shifted nervously. “ ** _I won’t tell. Cross my heart._** ”

Without thinking, I crossed my right hand over my heart and held it up, my pinky extended. We both froze at the unexpected movement and I couldn’t help the embarrassed flush assaulting my cheeks again. What was I, nine? Hunching my shoulders, I started to pull away, only for the Soldier to shift restlessly, as if protesting my retreat. I stilled once more as faint curiosity bloomed within me. My pinky hung between us as I returned the patience he showed me.

His gaze flickered uneasily for another count of infinity and then he slowly, carefully reached forward to crook his flesh pinky around mine. I squeezed his gently in reassurance and the Soldier copied the motion, right down to the exact pressure I’d used. My happy grin and his answering slow blink erased the last of the unease scenting the air between us. I’d relaxed so much at the simple exchange I didn’t even flinch when he crowded nearer to cover each of my bullet holes with a sterile gauze pad. A few minutes of careful wrapping later and my thigh was as good as it was going to get until I had a chance to sleep properly.

“ ** _Maintenance complete,_** ” I said, more than a little relieved as I stood to tug my pants back into place.

My companion grunted softly in agreement as he tucked the med kit under the sink once more.

“ ** _So do evil lairs come standard with sustenance or do they expect their captives to survive on plots of vengeance alone?_** ” I asked as I finished buttoning my pants. “ ** _Asking for a friend._** ”

Judging by the Soldier’s bland look my sarcasm had not gone over his head. Though if I read his lip's small twinge correctly he wasn’t exactly disapproving either. He flicked his gaze pointedly back the way we came before slipping out the door and I followed without hesitation.

“ ** _Don’t get me wrong,_** ” I continued as he led me from the bathroom, “ ** _I like cold, bitter things as much as the next girl but there’s only so much I can take before I crave something substantial, you know?_** ”

The Soldier glanced over his shoulder, one eye brown twinging as if it was desperately fighting to the urge to arch inquisitively.

“ ** _I knew you’d understand._** ”

The kitchen was as dated at the rest of the house, though I was amazed to find the appliances appeared to be in good working condition. And surprise, surprise, the dingy cabinets boasted a less than abysmal supply of canned goods. There were also pots and pans to cook them in. Though I was probably going to have to scrub them out first. Who knew agents of evil were such an unhygienic lot.

“ ** _Do you think the tap water is safe to drink?_** ” I asked as I filled the left side of the double sink with hot, sudsy water. I’d settled on cleaning a couple different sized pans, since I wasn’t exactly sure what I could feed the Soldier. Gods only knew what relatively simple matters his standing orders would complicate.

The refrigerator door opened and closed quickly behind me. The next second a chilled bottle of water appeared at my elbow. I chugged down a couple gulps, surprised at how thirsty I was now that I’d drawn attention to it.

“ ** _Thanks_**.”

I turned at the sound of plastic rustling nearby, my smiling dying as I watched the Soldier swallow down half a bottle from the package shoved to the far side of the counter. The word ‘Asset’ had been hastily scribbled in permanent marker across the label of every single one the bottles there. Irrational fear sank heavily in my gut. Abandoning the dishes to the sink for the moment, I strode purposefully over and plucked the bottle from the Soldier’s grip, ignoring the look he shot me in favor of stealing a sip. My senses came alight as the drugs, hidden from ordinary sight, scent, and taste, splashed over my tongue. Cramps assaulted my gut as my body instinctively prepared to expel the offensive liquid by any means necessary. I barely made it back to the sink in time to spit the water out, muscles along my abdomen strung tight as a bow as my jaw clenched to smother my pained groan.

Hints of what symptoms came from the drugs whispered through me. Mental haziness was the first thing to hit. Perhaps a memory suppressant of some kind or something that made a person more susceptible to verbal commands. Probably both, if I had to guess. There was more to it than that. An appetite suppressant maybe? Other things were mixed in but I hadn’t ingested enough to get a more accurate read. And I sure as hell wasn’t going to right now.

A gentle hand brushed against my shoulder and I straightened to face the anxious Soldier with what I hoped was a reassuring look. As reassuring as I could get while I was two seconds from puking up my guts.

“ ** _Yeah, you’re not drinking this,_** ” I told him weakly and upended the bottle over the empty side of the sink.

The Soldier stared longly at the water as it disappeared down the sink. I offered him mine instead but his eyes never once rose from the drain.

“ ** _Solider, that water wasn’t safe_** ,” I tried to explain. “ ** _There were drugs in it._** **_Here. Drink mine. Please, I don’t mind sharing._** ”

He carefully examined every inch of the label and then set the bottle down firmly on the counter before heading back to the bag with the marked ones. I trailed after him in confusion. The Soldier extracted another marked bottle, the ink on the label slightly smeared as if the person who put the word ‘Asset’ on there had been in too big a hurry to bother letting it dry properly before they shoved it back in the plastic. Careless in how they handled everything about him it would seem.

Understanding dawned slowly. “ ** _You’re not allowed to drink from anything that isn’t labeled, are you?_** ”

The tiniest shake of his dark mane confirmed my suspicion. I couldn’t even be pleased at the new form of communication the Soldier offered at my latest demand as I glared at the offending bottles. Likely everything labeled for him was drugged in some fashion. So to keep him safe, I needed to find a loophole within his commands. Which would have been easier if he could recite them aloud for me like he had when I protected the blind man. Judging by his continued silence, that wasn’t an option this time around.

For whatever reason.

Still, I wouldn’t give up. The situation was rather straight forward and his commands must allow for some form of contingency. I stared at the empty bottle in my hand for a long second, frustration mounting before a new thought struck me.

“ ** _What if I refilled this bottle? Could you drink from it?_** ”

The Soldier paused with the freshly open bottle halfway to his mouth. He considered me, gaze intense as if he was weighing my suggestion against the laws engraved into the very fabric of his being. My fingers tapped impatiently against the empty bottle as he looked between it and the water on the counter. Eventually his head dipped slightly in the most subtle nod I’d ever seen, his hair becoming an impenetrable curtain around his pale face.

It was good enough for me.

“ ** _Okay, just one second. Gimme one second._** ”

I dipped my chosen bottle in the sudsy water before giving it a quick swirl to make sure the soap reached every nook and cranny on the inside. Once I was satisfied no trace of the drugs had survived, I rinsed it with scalding hot water until there wasn’t a single bubble left in the overflow. I barely noticed the temperature as I dumped it out one last time and filled it from my own bottle. The Soldier reluctantly surrendered his full bottle for my prepared one. His metal arm recalibrated in the tense silence but other than the faint whirring, it was impossible to tell he felt any sort of unease. His face and body language certainly didn’t betray anything of his thoughts. Relief fell heavily across my shoulders as the first drops slipped past his peeling lips and I couldn’t help smiling gently as he finished in record time. It was a moment’s effort to refill it from an unmarked bottle from the refrigerator. Though in my paranoia I took a fairly large gulp to make sure our captors hadn’t drugged that stash either. The Soldier blinked slowly at my concern, though I noticed his arm plates had stopped shifting once I began dumping out the remaining tainted bottles. I saved a dozen or so to repurpose, setting them in the refrigerator once they were sanitized and filled to the brim with safe water. That way they could stay chilled until the Soldier decided he was ready for them.

Satisfied that another bullet had been successfully dodged, I turned back to scrub the pans with renewed vigor. All the while my companion’s steady gaze rested heavily on the back of my neck. Not that I ever managed to catch him openly scrutinizing me when I glanced over at him. The intensity was unfamiliar but not distressing, per say. Eventually I stopped trying to catch his gaze and focused on my task as the silence settling between us softened into something more comfortable.

“ ** _Okay, so what do we have that’s edible?_** ” I mused to myself once the last pan was dried and set on the counter out of the way.

The Soldier had settled on the far side of the stove at some point during my paranoid scrubbing, hip propped against the far counter as he watched me scuttle around the kitchen in search of something simple that didn’t sound entirely repulsive. Another bottle hung loosely in his grip. His third in the last twenty minutes or so if I was counting right. Which was making it very difficult to keep the smug satisfaction from my face. Probably the one thing that kept me from giving into the urge was the fact that my companion might think my reaction was from some sort of perceived victory against him. In truth, the idea that I’d circumvented his handlers and managed to break even part of their grip on him, without putting him in danger, is what really had me basking like a cat in a fresh patch of catnip. That and the obvious good it was doing his much abused body. Already his enhanced healing was working wonders on his more blatant dehydration symptoms. Hopefully food would help ease the other low-key stressors I sensed every time we brushed against each other. It felt like he hadn’t eaten in forever.

“ ** _So we have tomato soup, chili, or beef stew. Which on second thought,_** ” I said as I inspected the three choices carefully, “ ** _I’m retracting that third option. I’ve had it before and it looks like dog food. Smells and tastes like it too._** ”

The Soldier tipped his head before taking a small sip of his water. Satisfaction should not have been such a heady feeling. Nor should it have made my stomach wriggle like a puppy with a new toy.

“ ** _Yes, I’ve actually had canned dog food, so I’m not just talking out of my ass. But that’s a story for another time. Which sounds better to you? Tomato soup or chili?_** ”

Faint whirring and the scrape of metal against metal was my only answer. When I glanced over in confusion, the Soldier’s gaze was fixed firmly on the ground.

“ ** _Solider?_** ”

The mostly empty water bottle squawked loudly in protest as his metal grip tightened compulsively around it.

Okay, definitely upset. But about what? “ ** _Would you prefer something else? I can check the cupboards and the fridge again. Maybe I missed something._** ”

His hair fluttered softly as he shook his head fast enough to almost qualify as a vibration. Another arm recalibration had me standing to grip his flesh hand before I even considered the action. He flinched at the first contact but made no move to pull away further as I stroked my thumb over his knuckles.

“ ** _Hey, it’s okay,_** ” I said gently, trying to force as much reassurance into my tone and my aura as I could. To make the space between and around us safe. “ ** _It’s okay if they don’t sound good to you. And it’s okay if you can’t tell me why. I just didn’t want to make the decision without discussing it with you first. I’m not going to…to force you to eat them or anything._** ”

Steel blue orbs peeked at me from behind lank bangs and my hands itched to brush them aside. I curbed that particular instinct since I didn’t want to spook him any more than he already appeared to be.

“ ** _Tell you what. How about I make something and if you decide you want it, it’s there. Okay? How’s that sound?_** ”

The silence was broken only by another short recalibration before he gave another slow blink. I smiled encouragingly, trying to reenforce the idea that he hadn’t disappointed me in any fashion and was grateful to see some of the minute tension disappear from his expression. Satisfied that I’d done as much good as I could for the moment, I released him and after another short debate, settled on tomato soup for our breakfast. I’d always found it comforting and the lack of possible flatulence was probably better for all involved. Heaven forbid the Soldier fart around Pierce. The man would probably flay him alive for the audacity.

Hiding my instinctive shudder as best I could, because it was a distinct possibility Pierce would preform such a heinous act over an uncontrollable bodily function, I replaced everything except the soup and my chosen pot. By some miracle whoever supplied this safe house had been here recently because the milk left in the fridge was still usable. I moved on autopilot as I added the appropriate amount of milk to ensure the soup wasn’t completely bland and watery.Another great thing about tomato soup from a can: it took very little time and almost no effort to keep from screwing it up. Which was great because I just realized there was another problem I needed to solve before we got much further.

“ ** _Unbelievable,_** ” I groused under my breath as I hastily clamored on the counter, shuffling on my knees as I dug through the scant piles of dishes stored seemingly at random throughout the cupboards. Not a single one had been designated for the Soldier’s use. “ ** _They send you to a safe house that isn’t even properly equipped to support you. Complete and utter idot-donkey-ness_**.

“ ** _And before you ask,_** ” I said pointedly to my carefully not-smirking audience, “ ** _yes, I realize I completely mangled that little bit of Russian but I also don’t know the exact translation for_** ‘jackassery’ **_so I went with what made the most sense. If you have a better idea, I’m all ears_**.”

The Soldier’s lips quivered slightly as he pressed them together.

“ ** _Yeah, sure. Laugh it up, chuckles._** ” I sighed theatrically before grabbing a small plastic mixing bowl that would probably survive my plan. I didn’t even bother to hide my grin as I kicked my boots off so I could use the natural cradle in my lotus position to hold the bowl in place. They barely touched the floor before the Soldier snatched them up and deposited them neatly in the corner out fo the way. I couldn’t help the fond look I shot after him even as I continued to snark good-naturedly. “ ** _Everyone’s a critic._** ”

Armed with an old meat fork and my natural strength, I slowly and carefully carved the word ‘Asset’ into the body of the bowl. It took more effort not to poke the utensil through the wall than to successfully mar the surface but after a few moments of valiantly struggling I was rewarded.

“ ** _Would you mind stirring the soup?_** ” I asked distractedly as I turned my attention on the handle of a soup spoon I’d found in the utensil drawer during my earlier search. The faint scraping of the serving spoon against the bottom of the pan was the only sign my request had been answered. Less than a meter away and the Soldier could still move quietly enough to be invisible. It should have been terrifying. Instead I just found myself grateful for his help. “ ** _Thank you, Soldier._** ”

Several minutes of jaw-clenching metal squeals later, I crowed in delight and held up both items in triumph for my companion’s inspect. The Soldier tilted his head before his gaze zeroed in on the carving. Then he just…froze. So still I realized he wasn’t even breathing. With the exception of his metal hand, which continued to stir the soup with steady, precise counter-clockwise circles. As if nothing could possibly be more important in that moment than to fulfill the task assigned to him. Which was unnerving in a way I couldn’t even begin to comprehend while I was processing the micro expressions exploding across his face. Before I could say anything, the Soldier reached one trembling hand out to gently brush his fingertips against the carvings. Almost like he was checking to make sure they were real. Tension crackled in the silence between us for several heartbeats.

“ ** _Is this okay?_** ” I asked, not sure what else to do.

The Soldier snatched his hand away as if burned and turned to stare at the soup with such intensity I almost asked if it was telling him the meaning of life. Given his strange reaction to the bowl and spoon, I wasn’t sure teasing him was a good idea right now. Deciding that he might like a little space to work through whatever it was that set him off, I tasked myself with setting the nook for our meal. Including fresh bottles of water from the refrigerator. Without thinking I made sure he had the side that offered the clearest lines of sight possible to the surrounding area. Hopefully it would help him feel safer. More in control. Eventually I couldn’t put it off anymore and I returned to the Soldier’s side, reaching out to take the serving spoon from his hand. He surrendered it without protest, hesitating beside me as I checked to make sure the soup was ready to eat.

“ ** _You did great,_** ” I said, trying to regain whatever camaraderie my actions had unintentionally stolen.

Steel-blue flickered at me through a chestnut veil and then they fixed on bowl sitting innocently on the nook. Given the sudden apprehension rolling off him, I would have expected a firing squad to be waiting for him instead.

I couldn’t quite swallow down my disappointed sigh. “ ** _How about you have a seat and I’ll be right there, okay? Shouldn’t be more than a minute or two_**.”

He obeyed instantly and it shouldn’t have felt so much like a sucker-punch. To be obeyed. As if I’d somehow fallen to the same level as the rest of the assholes who’d stolen so much of his life from him. I obsessively picked through the last ten minutes, going over and over everything I’d said or done, trying to see what might have been the catalyst. Eventually I had to admit defeat. There was nothing for it. I’d have to apologize and try to figure out what I’d done to upset him. Maybe he’d be more inclined to answer questions after getting some food in him.

“ ** _Here we go,_** ” I announced with forced cheer as I turned off the stove and carried the pan over to the waiting potholder I’d set between the two bowls earlier. “ ** _Food’s ready._** ”

The Soldier didn’t even glance up from the staring match he was currently having with the scratched tabletop. I took the opportunity to pour the majority of the pan’s worth into his bowl before taking what was left for myself. Odds were he needed it more than I did anyway. The pan went to the potholder and I settled myself as unobtrusively as I could across from him. After a moment’s hesitation I picked up my spoon and very deliberately scooped up a healthy bite, careful to blow on it before popping it into my mouth. The Soldier watched the entire process with an intensity that made me half-afraid the spoon would explode in my hand.

“ ** _It’s pretty good,_** ” I said, taking another bite between sentences. “ ** _I’d like to tweak a few things if I had the spices handy but it’s perfectly respectable as it is._** ”

My companion continued to watch me eat for another long moment. Finally I couldn’t stop myself and I rested the tip of the spoon back in the center of my bowl.“ ** _Soldier…won’t you at least eat a little?_** ”

He ducked his head, hiding behind his bangs once more.

“ ** _Just a bite?”_** I wheedled as I abandoned my seat to crouch beside him, hand hovering over his knee as I tried unsuccessfully to meet his flickering gaze. “ ** _Please? For me?_** ”

The look he fixed on the bowl was pure _want_ and I latched on to it with an intensity that should have scared me. Fortunately I was too busy mapping out this latest landmine to get too deep into any personal introspection at the moment.

“ ** _There’s something stopping you from eating, right?_** ” I talked myself through my thoughts aloud, letting the Soldier’s reactions guide me. “ ** _Okay. The spoon and bowl are marked correctly, so that can’t be it. Is it the soup? Do you not want it? Should I make something else?_** ”

Another flickering glance, then a deep, apperceive inhale of the soup’s aroma.

“ ** _Nope, soup’s fine_**.” I chewed my bottom lip mercilessly as I eyed the shades drawn over the nearby window. “ ** _Is it the location? Would you feel safer sitting somewhere else?_** ”

His frame gave a distinctive wiggle. As if he was settling more firmly in the seat.

“ ** _Not the location then. Okay, thank you. That helps eliminate some things._** ” I gave him a distracted smile as I tried to figure out what else could possibly be stopping him from eating. Another moment passed and I couldn’t help the frustrated hand I ran over my face. “ ** _I’m sorry, Soldier. I’m trying to understand. I really am. But I need…a hint. Something. Anything. Please, help me understand so I can fix whatever is stopping you from eating._** ”

The Soldier stared at the soup once more for a long moment before he reached out and took a long swig from his water. My brows furrowed before I could stop myself and I glanced at him questioningly. He took a second, longer drink, staring intently at my cheek all the while.

The answer hit me hard enough to knock me off balance and I flailed for a second before my hand slapped against the table. It was barely in time to keep me from falling flat on my ass. He twitched at the sudden movement but his eyes brightened instantly. As if he understood my reaction meant his message had gotten through. And gods had it ever. I had to take a moment to digest what he’d been trying to tell me all along, my stomach doing its best to fold itself into a pretzel in an attempt to avoid the horror sinking through me at this latest revelation.

They’d forbidden him from eating. From godsdamned, _fucking eating_.

I was going to kill them. All of them. Even if I didn’t know right now, in this moment, who ‘all of them’ entailed. I would find them and there wouldn’t be enough to fit in a specimen jar by the time I was finished.

And nothing in this life or the next would be able to save them.

Sucking in a deep breath, I looked up into the Soldier’s uncertain face and swallowed my rage as best I could. Killing people would have to wait. I had better things to do. Like helping to undo some of the damage they’d done.

“ ** _Okay, okay. It’s okay._** ” I gave myself a mental shake and then hauled myself upright. “ ** _I can fix this. Just give me two minutes. I can fix this._** ”

Carefully plucking the bowls from the table, I carried them with me to the counter, rummaging quickly through the cupboards above until I’d extracted two coffee mugs. The meat fork was put back to work with a squeal of protest. In record time the Soldier had his own, designated, extra large mug. Though the meat fork would probably never function correctly again. The bowls’ contents were dumped into their respective replacements and if a little of mine ended up in the Soldier’s, well it was a simple mistake. Anyone with half a heart could make it. I practically ran back to the nook, slowing just enough to set the mug in front of my companion without spilling anything.

“ ** _There. Now we drink,_** ” I said firmly as I sat back down. I took my own large gulp, barely tasting the hot liquid as it scalded its way across my tongue and down my throat. “ ** _See, just two people drinking. No eating here in this joint._** ”

The Soldier spared enough time to gave me a look as he inspected the mug. Okay maybe that had been a little over the top. So sue me.

Once he’d located the hasty engraving he cradled it the mug in both hands and chugged the entire thing in a handful of desperate swallows. I stared in growing astonishment as the Soldier slurped down the last of the soup. When he lowered the mug, a small trickle of orange was making its way to the scruff on either side of his mouth. He wiped at it carelessly with his flesh hand before sucking at the remnants as if they were the finest elixir in the world. Suddenly he caught sight of my incredulous look. His shoulders twitched as if they wanted to hunch but he was stopping them through sheer force of will. It made my heart ache for some unexplainable reason.

“ ** _Would you like more?_** ” I asked hesitantly.

I couldn’t quite swallow back my relieved chuckle as he practically shoved the mug across the table and into my lap.

“ ** _I’ll take that as a yes._** ”

Pouring some of my own leftovers into the mug, I caught the stricken look that fluttered across his face faster than a heartbeat and I felt my heart stutter all over again.

“ ** _Don’t worry,_** ” I assured him as I handed him back the mug. “ ** _There’s another two cans below. It won’t take any time at all to get them ready. That way there’s plenty for both of us._** ”

Two minutes and a quick rinse of the pan later, I had both cans heating quickly as I sat on the counter with the Soldier hovering nearby, his mug still cradled in both hands as he watched the process with rapt attention. It would have been sweet if I didn’t understand why having something as simple as canned soup was such a monumental event for him. Thinking about it just depressed me and if the tiny looks my companion kept sneaking at me when he thought I wasn’t paying attention were anything to go by, my growing negativity was affecting him. I needed something to help keep my mind occupied.

“ ** _So what do you do while you wait for extraction?_** ”

The Soldier tilted his head at my question and I would have rolled my eyes if I wasn’t worried he would think the expression was directed at him.

“ ** _Too open-ended. Sorry. Ummm…do you just sit and wait for whatever team comes to get you?_** ”

He gave another of his minuscule nods as he sipped at the dregs of his soup.

I sighed heavily. “ ** _Of course. Gods forbid you actually be allowed to do anything mentally stimulating. No, I’m not upset with you,_** ” I hurried to reassure him when I noticed the growing tension in his shoulders. “ ** _Just…well, mostly complaining to myself about how they treat you. Don’t mind me, okay? I’m just bored and frustrated, is all. I hate sitting in one place for too long. If I had something to do with my hands it would help. But I can get over it. Sorry if I upset you._** ”

The Soldier stared at me for a long moment before he carefully set his empty mug beside me. Then he disappeared into the depths of the house without a sound.

“ ** _Okay_** …” I murmured, eyebrows hiking into my hairline.

When he showed no sign of returning immediately, I shrugged and focused on keeping the soup from scorching on the bottom of the pan. If there had been supplies for any sort of baking I could have at least killed a couple hours playing around with those. Maybe find a way to puree it so the Soldier could have some without violating his orders. But the only thing close to baking ingredients I’d found was a half empty bag of chocolate chips forgotten in the back of the freezer and the milk we’d nearly decimated making soup. There was enough left over I was toying with the idea of making hot chocolate later. Though doing so without any sort of cinnamon, ancho chili powder, or vanilla felt like a cardinal sin. Still, if I was going to be honest with myself, I knew I’d commit worse sins if it kept the Soldier safely tucked away in this house where I could keep him separated from the others. It seemed like such a small price to pay in the face of what he’d suffered.

The soup's cooking time passed without any sign of the Soldier returning and I fended off boredom by singing funny little tunes that came to mind. It was really an odd mixture of ancient campfire songs I'd picked up from celebrations with my people to the occasional infomercial ditty. The collection was hodge podged together without any clear track to be found in the selections. Mostly they were inherently cheerful, which was important if I was going to keep my peaceful aura alive and kicking. Though I did notice the longer I sang, the more often it was older tunes my voice wrapped comfortably around. Strange really. I wasn't normal prone to bouts of nostalgia while cooking for strangers. When no other explanation made itself known, I shrugged off my pondering and focused on getting the soup ready.

I was busy pouring the new batch of ready soup into our mugs when a tiny scuff of a boot from behind me announced the Soldier’s return. A stupidly wide grin burst across my face as I dropped the pan into the sink for cleaning later.

“ ** _Hey! Perfect timing. Here, it’s really hot so maybe don’t drink it so fast…this…time?_** ”

My voice trailed off as I saw the way the Soldier stood hesitantly by the nook, his flesh hand fisted around something he pressed into his side and his metal hand wrapped tightly around his wrist from behind. Like he was restraining himself. His eyes had taken on that familiar, darting unease as they fluttered everywhere around the room.

Except me.

What on earth could I have done now when I hadn’t even been with him the last five minutes?

“ ** _Soldier? Is something wrong?_** ”

His arm recalibrated and for a second I was struck by the irrational fear the shifting metal plates might snag on to leather straps covering every inch of his torso. Then I managed to push aside those intrusive thoughts in favor of joining him in the nook. The Soldier waited until I was seated before he slowly lower himself into the space he’d previously occupied. I waited a beat to see if he would give me any indication what was on his mind but when my silence only made him shift uneasily, I passed over his mug with what I hoped was an encouraging smile.

Just as I began to withdraw my hand, his metal one shot out with terrifying speed to capture my vulnerable wrist. I froze instinctively, gaze flickering from our hands to his face. He appeared to be struggling with something and I did my best not to push, relaxing into his surprisingly gentle grip. The cool metal gradually warmed to match my body’s temperature as the seconds ticked by. As I opened my mouth to ask what was going on, his other hand rose from where it’d been tucked beneath the table top and deposited a small pack of something in my upturned palm. Faster than thought he released me, dragging his mug of soup closer with both hands as he began to sip from it at a much more sedated pace than before. I couldn’t help the eyebrow I arched at him before I turned my attention to his gift. Surprise had me blinking once, twice, three times before I allowed myself to believe what my eyes were showing me.

It was a pack of well-worn playing cards.

The Soldier had searched the entire house and found me something to take my mind off things. All because I mentioned to him I liked to keep my hands busy while I waited. I traced the tattered edges of the box wonderingly before I managed to put together a grateful smile for my companion.

“ ** _Thank you,_** ” I whispered. I swallowed down the suspicious lump in my throat and immediately pulled them out to make sure it was a full deck. Which of course it was. Somehow I knew my companion never would have brought it to me if it wasn’t. Imperfection or thoughtful intentions probably didn’t go far with Pierce and his merry band of assholes.

The Soldier gave a please hum and watched with mild curiosity as I removed the jokers before shuffling. I hesitated once I’d finished shuffling the customary seven times. “ ** _I don’t suppose they allow you to play cards, do they?_** ”

He clutched his mug a little tighter where it rested on the table and I reached out to pat his metal wrist gently.

“ ** _Hey, that’s okay. It’s not your fault._** ” I began to deal a classic game of Klondike, a plan forming as my hands moved on autopilot to lay the game out sideways to both of us. That way we were both looking at it from a similar angle. “ ** _Tell you what, there's lots of variations of solitaire. I’ll play through those and you can tell me if I miss anything. Or feel free to move the card where it needs to go. That okay?_** ”

The Soldier gave me a dubious look before eyeing the cards as if they were live grenades.

“ ** _Or not. You don’t have to if you don’t feel like it. I’m not going to force you._** ”

For the better part of an hour I played through nearly two dozen games, talking through my decisions aloud in hopes that it would help the Soldier understand the rules and strategy of each variation as I cycled through them slowly. With each variation the level of difficulty grew until I was losing more games than I won. I didn’t mind though. It was nice to have something to occupy myself with. It also gave me an excuse to keep verbally engaging the Soldier while allowing for bouts of natural silence as I considered my next move and he digested the different strategies I employed.

Near the halfway point of the second hour he began twitching every now and then when I missed an opportunity, both intentionally or due to a lapse in focus. I hid my satisfaction as best I could and kept playing. By the end of the third hour, his hand lifted from where he’d clasped them in his lap after his soup was gone, aborting the movement halfway to the card I’d deliberately ignored since the beginning of the game.

“ ** _Did you see something, Soldier?_** ” I asked innocently, pausing in my own examination of the board to watch him shift uncomfortably in his seat.

His lips pinched slightly as he stared hard at my cheek. Probably as close to a glare as he’d ever been allowed. I softened my expression further and smiled encouragingly when his gaze flickered pointed back to the card.

“ ** _You’re welcome to move any card you want to any place on the board,_** ” I reminded him gently. “ ** _Only if you want to though. No one is going to force you. Not here with you and me. Here, we’re safe._** ”

The Soldier swallowed tightly, his jaw flexing as he seemed to be forcing himself past some sort of mental barrier. And then slowly, so slowly I almost missed the beginning of the movement, he used one trembling finger to slide the card into its proper position. Once done, he snatched his hand back again. As if afraid I’d change my mind and punish him for something so close to independent thinking it could almost be mistaken for autonomy. Part of me wondered how often that had been done to him. How many times a new handler was brought in just for such a purpose. How long them pretend to care, only to have what fragile trust was formed smashed when it would hurt the Soldier most. It was probably what Pierce was plotting when he saw how I interacted with the Soldier. I’d have to be careful when I was inevitably handed over. Because the Soldier wasn’t free to refuse and eventually Pierce would demand my surrender. It rankled me to know I’d probably be forced to bare the insufferable asshat’s lording for an indeterminate amount until I figured out a way to safely remove the Soldier from his clutches.

Shaking my head to clear the melancholy brought on by my thoughts, I offered my companion a smile before continuing with the game. “ ** _Thank you, Soldier. For your help. Let me know if you see anything I miss, okay?_** ”

The Soldier considered me for the rest of that game and into the next. Just as I was beginning to resign myself to the loss of any ground I’d made in the last two hours, he shifted restlessly, glancing between me and a card I’d misplaced during my internal lamenting. I waited patiently to see what he would do. Another round of carefully aborted half-twitches. More insistent stares. And then eventually, finally, he moved the card to its proper location. I didn’t even bother to hide my bright grin.

“ ** _Thanks!_** ” I said. “ ** _I might have missed that and flubbed the whole thing. Thank you for fixing my mistake._** ”

He stared at my cheek for another moment and then deliberately rested his elbows on the table, hands clasped beneath his chin as the Soldier leaned closer. To the cards.

And to me.

He didn’t even flinch when I reached out to pat his metal arm gently before turning my attention back to the game.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all! So now that we've had some interactions between our two lovelies, let me know what you think. I promise the story will get moving forward more quickly in the upcoming chapters. Also, short announcement on posting. I'm getting ready to relocate to another city in another state and while I fully intend to keep posting once a week, that may get interrupted without warning. So I beg forgiveness ahead of time and invite any comments you might have. Thanks!


	11. Chapter 10: Unexpected Hope

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am sooooo sorry everyone! Life and this chapter have not been kind to my promise of weekly updates. Things are crazy right now, so I'll be updating as often as I can but they probably won't be on a certain schedule. Thanks again for all your support! Comments and kudos are always welcome.

There was nothing like the comforting weight of warm sunlight across sleep-soft muscles. I stretched languidly, the deep tranquility I felt at the sun’s gentle touch keeping my thoughts hazy and slow for a few moments passed my initial waking. Not even the near physical press of the Soldier’s gaze against my vulnerable back could coax my normal unease up through the thick fog keeping reality at bay. Which wasn’t nearly as surprising as I’d expected. Sure he was intense, volatile even. But with every second spent in his company, I grew more and more confident in the fact _he_ wasn’t dangerous to _me_. His orders certainly were.

The Soldier himself? Not so much.

Speaking of which…

“ ** _Hey there,_** ” I murmured softly in Russian as I rolled over to grin blearily at the man in question.

The Soldier gave a slow blink from the corner he was currently settled in.

“ ** _Hmmm. Yeah, I slept a lot harder than I expected. Felt good though_**.” I reached one hand up to scratch idly and frowned in annoyance at the rat’s next that met my gentle exploration. With a sigh I forced myself upright as I started working on damage control. “ ** _Did you get any rest?_** ”

A bland look warred with the insistent glances he kept shooting the partially opened blinds, suspicion flickering across his face. They weren’t open much, barely more than a crack so a little sunlight could sneak in. Not enough for anyone outside the house to even notice the change.

That didn’t stop the Soldier’s arm from recalibrating every time his eyes lingered on them for more than two seconds. I took pity on him and reached up to tug the string so the blinds closed tightly once more. Some of the tension eased around his mouth and shoulders as he relaxed a little deeper into his corner. It was the closest one to the window I’d dragged my pilfered mattress in front of and offered a decent line of sight to the door. Though I felt another wriggle of delight squirm through my belly at the pillow squashed beneath him. Giving it to him had been my last conscious effort before I’d given myself permission to shut down for a bit.

The surprisingly deep oblivion had been just what I’d needed to resettle myself more firmly into some sort of emotional stability and as an added bonus it had done wonders for my bullet wounds. It felt like they were barely there anymore. Which said a lot for my mental awareness at the moment. Or rather, lack thereof. There was no way a short nap like this had fixed them completely. While I didn’t fully understand the exact requirements for self-healing, it always happened when I was asleep for long periods of time. Unfortunately the actual rate of healing was never the same. The increase to my calorie intake was much easier to guess at. I’d probably have to heat up one or two cans of stew to offset the energy burned. The thought of stomaching the cheap stew had me grimacing.

Or maybe it was the realization I’d have to eat in front of the Soldier without having anything for him. He probably wouldn’t hold it against me. No, scratch that. I _knew_ he wouldn’t hold it against me. Probably didn’t even realize the unfairness of the situation. Whatever had been done to him had burned any freewill or personal desires right out and left him as close to an empty puppet as I’d ever seen. I’d tried to undo as much damage as I could over our time together but his behavior was startlingly similar to my Angels’ when they relapsed into their pre-Midgardan ways. Most likely his was the product of years of systematic abuse. Maybe even decades. Just like my Angels’ had been. It wasn’t something I could fix in a few hours by playing cards.

I weighed my options more carefully as I finger-combed my hair into submission and then redid the elaborate series of braids I preferred when heading into battle. They wove together at the back of my head, lessening the chance of them being used as a handhold in close-quarters combat. Satisfied they wouldn’t work loose any time soon, I turned my attention to finding something for the Soldier to have while I ate glorified dog food. Our tomato soup hadn’t taken all of the milk in the refrigerator and I’d come across a half empty bag of chocolate chips during a particularly frenzied cleaning spree just before I put myself down for a nap. There should be more than enough for homemade hot chocolate for us both. That would be the ticket. Gods’ know the Soldier could do with a treat. I shuddered to think when the last time was he’d been given anything approaching comfort food.

Satisfied with my new plan of action, I was distracted by a painful twinge between my legs as my body made other demands known. Apparently cooking would have to wait until after a quick detour to the bathroom.

Standing with a groan, I stretched one last time as the Soldier remained where he was, icy blue eyes inspecting me quickly before returning to that distant horizon just beyond. It seemed to be his customary focal point when he wasn’t deliberately looking at something. I refused to let my thoughts lead me down the rabbit hole of why he appeared to have a ‘default setting’ for what to do with his gaze. That would only lead to me punching something and that definitely wouldn’t help the carefully relaxed atmosphere I’d been fighting to cultivate since we got here.

“ ** _Got some maintenance to take care of._** **_I’ll be just a minute,_** ” I said before slipping into the ensuite bathroom, locking the door behind me without thinking. This room was in a little better shape than the half bath downstairs. The colors were still hideous but it had a nice double vanity topped and the light fixtures would have been pretty if they weren’t covered in chipped metallic paint. Rough, laminated wood cupboards too big for the limited space narrowed the walkway until it was almost impossible for one person to slip by another without sacrificing any thoughts of personal space. That would be the first thing I ripped out. The shower definitely needed to be updated as well, regardless of how large it was.

Any further inspection was cut short as the the doorknob jiggled slightly. “ ** _Hang on,_** ” I called, hurrying to unbutton my pants. “ ** _This will just take a second._** ”

The jiggling grew more insistent.

Annoyance made my tone sharper than I intended. “ ** _Calm down. It’s not like the empty bathroom is going to swallow me whole_**.”

The doorknob abruptly stopped moving. I sighed in relief as I began to unzip my pants. I knew the Soldier disliked letting me out of his sight. Had actually gone out of his way to stalk me around the house when I’d explored the entire building earlier this afternoon, despite my best efforts to assure him I wasn’t trying to escape. Having a little privacy for change was nice. I’d have to be sure to thank him once I was done emptying the small lake that had taken up residence in my bladder when I wasn’t looking.

As I walked towards the toilet, the edge of my thigh pocket snagged on the corner of the marble countertop, catching me off balance as I paused with my pants halfway down my hips. A sizable chuck, previously broken if the jagged crack was anything to go by, teetered for one heart-stopping second before plunging straight towards my foot. I swore loudly, my inhuman reflexes the only reason my foot hadn’t been crushed. The resulting _bang_ had me flinching back as I swore again. There was a certain satisfaction in suggesting the stupid inanimate object’s parents hadn’t said their nuptials before procreating.

A sudden explosion of wood had me leaping blindly to the side, head whipping around so fast a twinge sparked sharply in my neck as my heart raced to hide somewhere behind my Adam’s apple. The solid lip of the bathtub slammed into the backs of my scrambling legs and I tumbled backwards with an undignified squeak, my arms flailed wildly for any kind of purchase. Unfortunately the curtain rod supplied with the safe house was as shoddy as the rest of the damn place. It snapped beneath my exuberant yank when I attempted to right myself. The hollow _thunk_ of my collapse into the tub echoed around the room and for a moment I stayed perfectly still, tangled in the shower curtain. My brain helpfully looped the last ten seconds a dozen times as I tried to figure out just exactly what in the hell happened.

The answer came in the form of metal fingers gingerly peeling back the grimy plastic and the Soldier’s concerned head-tilt came into view. “ ** _Maintenance complete?_** ”

The words were hesitant and small in a way they had absolutely no business being when they popped out of the mouth of a man who easily had half a head in height on me. Not to mention seventy pounds of muscle. My teeth creaked loudly as I fought to keep from baring them in knee-jerk rage. Anger was my preferred way to burn through fear. Right now I had plenty of both swimming in my veins.

“ ** _No, Soldier,_** ” I snapped, irritation peeling my lips back in a snarl. “ ** _No, maintenance has not been completed! Regardless of your attempts to make me piss myself, gods’ dammit!_** ”

Whatever softness was in his eyes instantly shuttered away and if I could have kicked myself, I would have. Preferably right in the gut so there would be some physical manifestation of the sudden hurt I felt at seeing him retreat into himself. I tried to shove the guilt away, hiding behind my angry humiliation at being startled so badly. Dammit, he was the one who invaded my space. Why the hell was I the one feeling like shit now?

And I knew the answer even as I struggled into something resembling an upright position. Because it had taken hours before he’d truly relaxed around me today. Countless one-sided conversations and gentle coaxing for him to give me any sign of his thoughts. And here I was using him as a punching bag. All because he’d scared me and I’d made a fool of myself by falling on my ass. In a tub. Gods, I would never live this down if Sharon ever found out. Taking in his carefully blank expression, I sighed heavily as my anger dropped to a faint simmer.

“ ** _I’m sorry,_** ” I said softly. “ ** _I shouldn’t have yelled at you. You didn’t mean to startle me as much as you did and it’s not your fault I’m this jumpy. I shouldn’t have taken that out on you. Forgive me?_** ”

The Soldier watched me for another endless moment before he hesitantly reached down. I made no protest as he lifted me upright without effort. Which was a little ridiculous since I worked out regularly and was still a healthy weight. Regardless of the insane amount of magic I’d been using lately. I forced myself to remain pliant as he ripped the curtain in half in another carefully controlled display of strength, allowing me a moment to redo the zipper on my pants before he dropped the ruined curtain. My eyes roved over his hunched frame, snapping on an unnatural shape behind him. I gaped at the door leaning drunkenly off the doorframe by a single, mutilated hinge. The rest of the framing carried a subtle twist to it as well. The doorjamb where the catch was had been completely massacred by a single hit. I didn’t bother to inspect them further to see if the strike had come from the Soldier’s fist or his foot. Either was more than capable of the damage I noted.

“ ** _So, do I get to know why you felt the need to bust the door in?_** ” I asked awkwardly.

The Soldier shuffled back a step before he caught himself, straightening into parade rest even as he swallowed heavily. Unease rolled off him as he struggled with something. His jaw flexed a couple of times before he let out a loud huff through his nose.

“ ** _I know it’s hard,_** ” I said as I rested a hand on his metal arm. He seemed to handle being touched there better than anywhere with flesh. Which meant he only twitched a little, rather than outright flinching. At least it showed I hadn’t ruined all of our progress today. “ ** _But I’d really like to understand what happened so we don’t have a repeat performance. Can you do that for me?_** ”

Truthfully that last part was playing dirty. The Soldier’s instinctive need to _obey_ was so ingrained into his being that he’d never refused a request from me. At least not one that hadn’t directly contradicted Pierce’s orders. But I’d noticed putting that extra bit of pressure on him helped drag an answer out when his words would ordinarily have stayed clogged in his throat. Verbal communication was tricky but specifically saying something was ‘for me’ helped bypass his restrictions. At least a little bit.

“ ** _Please, Soldier? Tell me why you broke the door._** ”

The Soldier’s eyes gave a barely noticeable wince. “… ** _you disappeared_** …?” he muttered, almost so low I missed it. More question than answer really.

I frowned in confusion. Disappeared? Disappeared how? The bathroom was completely enclosed. Hell, there wasn’t even a skylight I could crawl out of if I found a way to reach the ceiling. He knew that. We’d both inspected the room thoroughly before I’d settled down for my nap. Not to mention the amount of noise I made just before his grand entrance. Obviously I was still missing something.

“ ** _I don’t understand,_** ” I said gently. “ ** _There’s no exit other than the one you came through._** ”

His agonized gaze flickered at me for a second before it dropped to the ground. “ ** _Secret?_** ” The word was hesitant and bitter all at the same time.

“ ** _There’s a secret exit?_** ” I glanced around doubtfully. Having lived as long as I had in the company of spies, thieves, mercenaries, and ancient beings, who had a shockingly high flair for drama, I’d gotten pretty good at spotting hidden things. Especially tunnels and other places that could be used as an escape. There was nothing in the house’s layout to suggest there was so much as a hidden cupboard beneath the stairs to the second floor.

The Soldier shrugged, looking miserable now. Which only served to confuse me more. Still, I kept trying to piece together his thoughts as best I could with what he gave me.

“ ** _Is there a secret entrance?_** ” I tried again.

I received the same shrug.

“ ** _So you don’t actually know if there is one,_** ” I reasoned aloud. “ ** _But you didn’t want to take the chance?_** ”

His chestnut curtain swayed forward to hide his eyes from my searching gaze.

“ ** _Soldier, even if there was something like that, I wouldn’t use it. I’m not going to abandon you. I promise—_** ”

“ ** _He’d make you disappear._** ”

I swallowed the rest of my assurance at his interruption. “ ** _You mean Pierce._** ”

It wasn’t actually a question. Not really. I got the distinct impression there weren’t a whole lot of _he’s_ that would have that much significance assigned to them. But I appreciated the nod my companion gave me anyway.

“ ** _Pierce has made a lot of people disappear, hasn’t he?_** ”

The Soldier met my eyes fully, steel blue shockingly fierce as he stepped closer. He hadn’t spoken this much since the warehouse…a day ago? Two days maybe? It felt like a lifetime ago. Whatever compulsion had forced him to break down the door, it was somehow circumventing the behavior his handlers had beaten in to him and letting him openly communicate with me. I could see the cost of his rebellion. Distress blanketed his mind as a faint tremor crawled through his body in intermittent waves. That didn’t stop him from reaching up to hesitantly touch my left cheek with his flesh hand. I allowed the gentle caress, more startled into compliance than because of any conscious decision on my part.

“ ** _Don’t want you to disappear…Mercy._** ”

He’d never said my name before. Regardless of how often I assured him he had my permission. My heart shattered as I stared first at him and then past him to the door.

“ ** _You broke the door to make sure I was safe._** ”

It was stupid how quickly the flush scaled my cheeks. As far as protective gestures, it was certainly bizarre and outright invasive. But given the extraordinary circumstances, it was also the sweetest thing anyone had ever done for me. Despite the bruises that now peppered my body because of it.

The Soldier hunched into himself a little more. As if expecting me to still be upset.

I gave him a crooked smile before curling my free hand around the one resting against my face. “ ** _You are unbelievable, you know that?_** ” I asked rhetorically. “ ** _A little confusing at times, sure, but kinda amazing too._** ”

Steel blue eyes widened almost comically and I couldn’t help my soft huff of laughter.

“ ** _I’m sorry I worried you,_** ” I said, apology sincere now that I understood what exactly had happened. “ ** _That wasn’t my intention at all. I accidentally knocked part of the counter on the ground. See?_** ”

I pointed at the offending marble chunk and the Soldier tilted his head as he scrutinized it briefly. Fondness tugged at my still recovering heart.

“ ** _I’ll try to be more careful in the future to make sure you know where I am at all times. Sound good to you?_** ”

I patted his metal shoulder gently before pointing at the doorway as my bladder reminded me why I’d come in the room in the first place. The Soldier’s jaw tightened mulishly, arms rising to cross over the wide barrel of his chest.

“ ** _I’m not asking you to leave,_** ” I said firmly. “ ** _But I am requesting privacy so I can pee. Just because I like you and you rushed in here to defend me from the vicious counter doesn’t mean you get a free peepshow. You’ve already gotten further into my pants than any other living man. Let’s not push it, okay?_** ”

That earned me a frown but after another short staring contest, the Soldier stomped to the doorway, his back firmly turned towards me. I would have rolled my eyes if I wasn’t fighting back the urgent cramping of my bladder. It was more luck than anything that got me situated on the toilet in time to avoid an accident.

Now would have been the perfect time to check my wounds if I wasn’t concerned about the Soldier’s patience running so thin. I doubted he would be particularly inclined to wait longer than was absolutely necessary. My bullet holes would just have to look after themselves for now. It wasn’t like they even hurt that much anymore. Huffing quietly to myself, I tapped my fingers impatiently against my knee as my body continued to answer nature’s call. The sound of the Soldier’s metal arm recalibrating echoed from the bathroom’s doorway and I preempted his subtle shift in my direction.

“ ** _Still doing just fine,_** ” I said firmly. ** _“Thank you._** ”

It was difficult to keep a naturally gruff dialect like Russian gentle, especially when I was trying to swallow down my lingering irritation but after the little heart-to-heart we’d just had, I deemed the effort worth it. Still more than a little uncomfortable with my audience, I made a conscious effort to pass the flood fit for Noah’s ark as quietly and quickly as possible. With the world’s most elite assassin standing guard not three meters away.

Sharon would probably split a gut if she could see me now. Or she and Kali might have a collective aneurysm. It was a catch-twenty-two either way.

Finishing up, I made sure my clothing was back in order before flushing and scrubbing my hands clean with warm water. Whoever supplied this safe house apparently never passed grade-school hygiene because other than the cheap dish detergent in the kitchen, I hadn’t seen a single other bottle of soap in the entire house. Maybe Pierce’s plans for world domination were on a tighter budget than I first guessed.

“ ** _All finished,_** ” I said as I wiped my hands dry on my pants.

The announcement was probably entirely unnecessary, given the fact the toilet and sink would have alerted him for me. Glancing up into the mirror, I caught the Soldier’s faintly wistful look as he inspected the toilet. Something thorny twisted around my heart as I considered what potential limitations Pierce might have imposed on bathroom usage.

“ ** _Soldier?”_**

Steel blue fixed on me through the mirror.

“ ** _Do I…do your orders require the word ‘Asset’ to be put on the toilet? I can go find a marker or something if you need me to_**.”

A decidedly less-bland look was my only answer. If I was being charitable, it might have been called amused.

“ ** _Look, I’m just trying to help,_** ” I groused, cheeks burning as I turned to face him more fully. My hands landed on my hips without any conscious thought on my part. “ ** _I know you haven’t gone since last night and we both drank a small lake’s worth since we got here, so it only makes sense that you’d need to…you know._** ”

There was no reason for me to feel so flustered. Especially not when we were having a perfectly logical discussion about normal, healthy, bodily functions. I never considered myself a prude or anything. According to Sharon, I was disturbingly open about certain aspects of human reproduction and bodily functions. Especially in my explanations of terms or techniques that she’d been innocent of before she inquired about them. Still, something about the Soldier made me shy away from my usual bluntness. As if I could make up for some of the horrors I imagined he’d suffered at Pierce’s and his goons’ hands if I tiptoed around certain aspects. Apparently this new protective urge was a point of great hilarity for my companion.

Ridiculously long eyelashes feathered briefly across the dark circles beneath his eyes. Yep, he was definitely laughing at me now.

“ ** _You, my dear Soldier, are a bonafide jerk,_** ” I informed him tartly. “ ** _Here I am trying to come up with a solution to your problem and you sit there smirking like the cat that ate the canary. So if your orders aren’t stopping you from taking care of business, what is?_** ”

The Soldier considered me for a long moment before he abruptly stepped into my space, looming in such a fashion I was forced to bare my throat in order to keep my gaze fixed on him. I jutted my jaw out defiantly as I refused to back down when his advance left barely a centimeter of space between our bodies. It should have been terrifying. Instead, it felt a little like a test. Or more accurately, a challenge. That stubborn streak inside that had kept me alive through more hell than anyone should ever know refused to let me surrender as the room grew stifling beneath the swell of intensity. Another impossibly long moment passed as we held an impressive staring match for two people who’s eyes never met.

Then the Soldier gently clasped his hands around my upper arms and pressed me back against the counter. The next second his warm presence was gone. Confusion had me staring after him until my brain caught up. I face-palmed as I realized what exactly had been stopping him from reaching the toilet.

“ ** _You could have said something,_** ” I said, voice muffled by my hand. “ ** _Or…maybe not. I know the whole speaking to me thing is still hit or miss. Just like, point or nudge me or something next time. Don’t just stand there and suffer. Okay?_** ”

My only answer was the sound of a zipper, followed by a stream that rivaled my earlier one.

Turning away, I froze when the sounds of the Soldier relieving himself stopped. The amount of self-control he displayed was both awe-inspiring and more than a little disturbing. “ ** _I’m not going anywhere. I promise. Just…just wanted to give you some privacy. That’s all._** ”

Apparently satisfied I wasn’t going to bolt, my companion finished his business and zipped himself back into the tactical pants. I glanced back when I deemed it safe. Blessedly he had the good manners to clean his hands without my prompting.

“ ** _Maintenance complete._** ”

I glanced over my shoulder to offer a lopsided grin. “ ** _Glad to hear it. Back to the kitchen?_** ”

His customary slow blink woke another surge of fondness in me.

“ ** _Very well. Tally ho!_** ”

The Soldier practically oozed warm contentment as he docilely followed me down the twisting staircase at the back of the house to the kitchen. He settled into our nook, mismatched hands deftly laying out another round of Idle War. It was one of the more challenging versions of solitaire and he’d taken a shine to it for the last hour or so before my nap. I stopped counting the games after he hit fifteen. Though I did notice between the two of us we’d managed to win better than forty percent of them. Nearly double the average of most players. No card slipped past our combined scrutiny and most importantly, neither one of us were too proud to cling to a lost cause. Sure we’d try every possible strategy first and take advantage of every opportunity that presented itself, sometimes making risky decisions to get there. However, neither one of us were so obsessed with winning we let it blind us to unsalvageable situations. After all, there was always the opportunity for a next game.

“ ** _Hmmm…this one’s gonna be a doozy, huh?_** ” I murmured as I inspected the cards’ arrangement. My hip rested comfortably against the tabletop as I turned to grin at him. “ ** _Who shuffled these stupid things anyway? Someone needs to fire them._** ”

The Soldier gave me a long-suffering, less-bland look as I cheerfully griped about my own shuffling abilities. I counted it as progress. And also, refreshingly enough, sass. If we ever got passed the abusive conditioning his handlers had beaten in to him, I didn’t think we’d find a sassier little shit within a hundred kilometers. Well, maybe Steve. Captain My-Plan-is-to-Throw-My-Trusty-Death-Frisbee-at-Everything-and-Win-with-My-Eyebrows-of-Pure-Virtue would probably have a riot with the Soldier.

Unless they killed each other first.

I still was fuzzy on how I was going to keep that from happening but without any word on Steve’s current status, there wasn’t much I could do about it right now. Better to focus my energy into more productive things. Like encouraging the Soldier’s subtle rebellion against his handlers. We’d progressed nicely over our time together from the occasional shifting of a card once or twice a set to him playing through an entire game as I made suggestions from the stove. Or the sink. Or anywhere else in the kitchen I happened to be as I organized the cupboards and drawers in sporadic fits of restlessness not even the his tranquil presence could ease.

Turning away from the nook, I frowned as my gaze wandered the newly cleaned kitchen, the urge to _do something_ nibbling away at my subconscious. Truthfully, there wasn’t a surface left in the whole damn room I hadn’t scrubbed within an inch of its life with a rag and soapy water. The Soldier had watched the entire affair with something akin to concern on his face but he’d had the good sense not to interfere. My eyes eventually landed on the freezer. Newly cleaned for probably the first time in months and almost entirely barren.

Except for half a bag of chocolate chips.

Right. I was going to make hot chocolate for us. The idea of heating the stew up at the same time sent my stomach fleeing for cover, so I decided to revisit that later. It wasn’t like the crap was going anywhere any time soon. I turned back to the Soldier and was secretly pleased when he immediately lifted his head to signal the transition of his undivided attention from the cards to me. Though I had a feeling the cards never truly garnered his full attention. A notion that was remarkably flattering, all things considered.

“ ** _I’m going to heat up something more for us to drink. Think you can take point on this round for me?_** ”

His chestnut curtain whispered softly around his face as he nodded.

I patted his metal hand gently. “ ** _You’re the best. Let me know if you want me to take a look at anything._** ”

Snagging my favorite pan from its new location beneath the counter, I poured the rest of the milk in and set the burner to medium-high. Our mugs were already waiting on the counter by the sink. They’d been among the first to fall victim to my cleaning frenzy. The bowl and spoon I’d engraved earlier sat beside them. Mostly because every time I attempted to tuck the useless things away in a cupboard the Soldier’s eyes followed them with soul-crushing apprehension that only faded when I set them back out in plain sight. Cruelty might be a weapon I employed from time to time but I was helpless before my companion’s wordless entreaty. It wasn’t like the dishes were hurting anything by sitting there and if they brought this man even the tiniest bit of joy, then who was I to argue?

The tension building inside me loosened appreciatively as I settled into the easy rhythm that came with cooking. Music rose unbidden to offer an accompaniment and before long I was singing under my breath. The tunes were an eclectic mix in a variety of languages. Mostly folk songs, since the Soldier seemed to respond more to them than any other genre I’d tried periodically throughout the day. They also helped settle my own lingering nerves from the minefield that had been our turbulent day. Fortunately my companion was more than happy to let me resettle with the aid of music. More often than not his heavy gaze followed me surreptitiously, outright ignoring the cards for long pauses when he thought I wasn’t paying attention. While the scrutiny took some getting use to, there was no instinctive revulsion or warning that usually accompanied such intense focus. I’d grown used to it much more quickly than I thought possible. It was kind of…nice. To have someone so interested even when I was doing mundane tasks. Odd, but nice.

A faint boot scuff warned me I wasn’t alone and I tipped my head back to offer another smile as the Soldier stood just within arm’s reach. Well, his arm’s reach maybe. I’d have to strain to get close.

“ ** _Why hello,_** ” I said, dropping the old Irish sleep-song currently on my lips between one note and the next. “ ** _Do you need something?_** ”

His head tilted in response, shifting a half pace closer to prop his hip on the counter beside me.

“ ** _Cards getting a little boring, huh?_** ” I asked, eyes knowing. The Soldier’s gaze shifted a restlessly between us and the nook. “ ** _Don’t get me wrong. I’m glad you brought them out. I probably would have ripped through the walls by now if you hadn’t. And I mean that quite literally. Because dear gods, there are so many problems with this house’s layout. Seriously. Do you think Pierce would be mad if I took a couple interior walls out? After all, an open floor plan is the best way for him to get the most out of his tiny fortresses of doom._** ”

Narrow lips twitched in subtle amusement.

“ ** _Yeah, he’d probably flip shit._** ” I entertained the notion of the secretary’s head literally exploding in irritation for another moment before I let the reality of our situation intrude on the amusing fantasy. “ ** _Not worth it though. Not in the long run, at least._** ”

Chestnut hair swung gently as the Soldier tilted his head back the other way.

“ ** _He may be an asshole, but he’s a strategic one from what I can tell. If he hasn’t figured out that I don’t give a damn what he does to me as long as it’s just to me, he’ll know before long. In the end, the only person paying for my behavior would most likely be you. And that’s not worth it. Not to me. So for now, I’ll play nice and do what I can to keep from antagonizing him too much._** ”

Which was going to be nearly impossible. I was the first to admit I had a smart mouth and a sharper tongue. Not to mention a really bad habit of letting them run away with me when I was pissed off or scared.

His muscles, both natural and synthetic, rippled with an aborted movement I couldn’t quite decipher. Judging by the hard stare currently boring into my cheek, the Soldier didn’t approve of my decision. Probably wasn’t used to someone putting his well-being before their own desires. Well, he was going to have to get over that. I may not understand my instinctive need to protect him and likely as not it would put me smack in the middle of hell when it broke loose.

But I’d be damned if that stopped me from leaping headlong into the fire.

“ ** _Hey, don’t give me that look. Whatever horror Pierce dreams up, I guarantee I’ve survived worse. A hell of a lot worse. That means,_** ” I continued pointedly over the top of the soft whine of the Soldier’s arm recalibrating, “ ** _I’m not going to break. Not for the likes of him. And I sure as hell don’t regret the time we’ve spent together. Whatever happens next isn’t your fault. You got that?_** ”

The Soldier’s jaw clenched so hard I could almost hear his teeth creak alarmingly beneath the pressure.

Yeah, I wasn’t going to let that stand.

I abandoned the stove to slip closer to him, fingers weaving together with his flesh hand to ease his white-knuckled grip on the counter’s rough edge. The cheap laminate had cracked noticeably beneath his strength but I wasn’t concerned about that. All I cared about was the the vinegar-sharp scent of distress clogging my nose as I cradled his strong jaw in my other hand. His scruff tickled my sensitive palm as powerful muscles jerked at the invasive touch. He didn’t attempt to pull free though. After a long moment of excruciating silence, he carefully, hesitantly leaned into my palm the tiniest bit. I kept my fierce gaze focused on the furrow between his eyebrows, leaving my conviction raw and open on my face without encroaching further into his space. Eyes iced over with misery flickered hesitantly across my face.

“ ** _Surrendering was my choice_** ,” I said firmly.“ ** _You understand? My choice. I don’t care how strong you are or how much of a badass. If I decided not to cooperate, this would have ended very differently. So don’t blame yourself. Got it?_** ”

His prominent Adam’s apple jerked as he swallowed hard.

Determination, molten hot as it coursed through my body, rose from the kilometer-wide stubborn streak that laid at the very core of my being. It had seen me through every war I’d fought in my two hundred years of life. Had single-handedly driven me to continue when nothing but despair lay in my heart. It was a strength born of being the sole defense for ten thousand plus souls every hour of every day and I gathered it to me once more. Steel in my spine and fire in my voice, I pulled my right hand free to hover chest-high between us.

Pinky extended.

“ ** _We’ll find our way through this mess. Together,_** ” I vowed. “ ** _No matter how long it takes. Are you with me?_** ”

The Soldier’s lips pressed firmly together, a new light in his eyes I’d never seen before as he hooked his fleshy pinky around mine and squeezed carefully. His ridiculously long eyelashes fluttered in another slow blink before he straightened with renewed determination. His head tilted towards the milk pan briefly before he returned his gaze to my face.

“ ** _You’re absolutely right,_** ” I agreed solemnly. “ ** _We’ve earned a treat._** **_Can you get the bag of chocolate chips from the freezer please?_** ”

He slipped away instantly at my gentle prodding. A dopey smile tugged at my lips before I had a chance to sensor myself. It was becoming a reflex now and gods preserve me, I wasn’t sure if that was a good or bad thing. Not like I could actually control it, anymore than I could smother the urge to reflexively check my connection to Kali and rest of the Angels still in D.C. None of them were close enough to establish communication without dropping into a deep mediation. Trust the Soldier I might but I wasn’t about to mentally check-out on him when his extraction team could arrive at any time. Which was a whole other barrel of monkeys I was going to have to figure out how to contain without exposing myself to any more scrutiny from Pierce and his ilk.

Accepting the frosted ziplock from the Soldier, I pushed aside such melancholy thoughts for the time being. There would be time to wallow later. Right now real hot chocolate was calling my name. The Soldier took up position beside me once more, chocolate chips going into his bowl so they could start to unthaw while I checked to make sure the milk was heating properly. I chuckled at his avid interest and held out the spoon I’d been using to stir the milk.

“ ** _Want to help?_** ”

Hesitant fingers closed on the handle, his hand faintly trembling as he precisely copied my stirring pattern.

“ ** _It’s not going to bite, you know._** ”

The Soldier’s eyes darted up to gauge my reaction. When he found nothing but encouragement, something in him seemed to settle and he relaxed until there was less than a hand’s width of space between us.

“ ** _Nothing bad ever came from hot chocolate,_** ” I said as I hopped up on to the counter.

The Soldier side-eyed me for an instant before he decided my new position wasn’t a threat and continued to methodically stir the milk. I snitched a couple of pieces from the bowl, popping them into my mouth thoughtlessly as I swayed to the music in my head. It was a moment before I noticed his cautious scrutiny.

“ ** _Good news,_** ” I said, chocolate muffling my words. “ ** _They’re not poisoned._** ”

The Soldier’s controlled movements ground to an abrupt halt as his gaze latched on to my lips.

I frowned slightly and swallowed. “ ** _Uh…that was supposed to be a joke. See? I’m just fine. Now if I start foaming at the mouth and collapse to the floor, then you can panic_**.”

That mildly disapproving, not-bland look was back again.

“ ** _You worry too much. I’m not exactly delicate if you haven’t noticed._** ” I snagged another small handful before pouring about half the chocolate into the pan. “ ** _Come on, sous-chef._** **_You’ll want to keep stirring so the bottom of the pan doesn’t scorch_**.”

Those tight, meticulous circles started up again and I kept an eye on our progress, adding more chocolate to the pan a little at a time. All the while the Soldier carefully worked the liquid so it never had a chance to settle or a single drop was spilled. It took almost no time at all before the piping hot chocolate turned utterly scrumptious. I took his spoon back, blowing carefully on it before popping the whole thing into my mouth. Rich, warm chocolatey goodness oozed across my tongue as I happily sucked down every last drop. Curious blue orbs inspected my face thoroughly as the Soldier waited for my judgement.

“ ** _Hey, not too bad for amateurs,_** ” I said cheerfully. Without thinking I plunged the spoon back into the pan and filling it once more. I carefully blew on it a couple times to make sure the temperature wouldn’t scald him before I held it up expectantly, one hand cradled underneath to catch any wayward drips. “ ** _Here. Try some._** ”

The Soldier hesitated briefly before he tilted his head forward, mouth hanging open just enough for me to tip the lush brown mixture in without spilling.

“ ** _What do you think?_** ”

His eyelashes fluttered closed as he swallowed loudly, a deeply satisfied rumble starting somewhere in his chest as those shockingly blue eyes snapped back open to fix on the pan. I couldn’t help the smug tilt of my lips as I reveled in his blatantly hungry expression. Yep, hot chocolate had definitely been the way to go.

“ ** _Yeah, it’s pretty damn good_** ,” I agreed. “ ** _Should be ready any second now. Can you grab the mugs?_** ”

I didn’t bother to smother my laughter when the Soldier immediately snatched both off the counter only to shove them expectantly at me. Mythical assassins should not be adorable. What was the world coming to?

Unfortunately my amusement was short-lived. Just as I prepared to call the drink ready, the Soldier’s entire body went ramrod straight, his head snapping in the direction of the window. I froze, stirring spoon hovering over the pan as I tried to understand the sudden change.

“ ** _Soldier, what—?_** ”

His flesh hand snapped up to cut off the rest of my question. I waited a moment longer and then caught the faint sound of a car engine making its way closer to us. Judging by the amount of growling, it wasn’t a cute little sedan either. I set the spoon down before thrusting my awareness outside the house, power racing into the forest beyond to check for threats. There was nothing out of ordinary with the flora or fauna. I wrangled my focus back, struggling to push aside the overwhelming flood of information my powers dumped on me. It was easier when I found the car’s passengers, gave me something to narrow my focus on.

It was a five man team. Middle-age or older, so they were undoubtably experienced and judging by the varying shades of brick red auras, dangerous enough to survive in their remarkably long careers. There was little else about them worth mentioning. All were healthy and fit, firmly in their prime. Odds were I could take them, regardless of my lack of weapons. I still would have preferred avoiding them all together.

Judging by the Soldier’s grim face, that wasn’t an option.

“ ** _Extraction team?_** ” I hazarded bitterly.

Steel blue eyes took in my distaste and his jaw line rippled as he bared his teeth in a wordless snarl. Cold, blank hostility stoled any gentleness our day together had coaxed out from behind his walls. Obviously he didn’t like the men coming. Which told me everything I needed to know about them.

“ ** _Stay_**.”

I blinked once, startled more by the unexpected panic that jerked at my heart than by the Soldier’s actual command.“ ** _Where are you going?_** ” I asked, struggling to keep my tone nonchalant. I was probably only sixty percent effective on that front.

“ ** _Perimeter sweep_**.”

“ ** _Is that really necessary?_** ”

The Soldier gave me a look and I sighed in frustration.

“ ** _Sorry. Sorry. You’re right._** ” I chewed on my bottom lip a second. “ ** _You’ll come back soon, right?_** ”

The barest hint of softness flickered through across his face as he brushed the knuckles of his right hand against my cheek. The touch was feather-light and more reassuring than it had any right to be.

“ ** _Soon_**. **_Mercy stay?_** ”

I nodded slowly, careful not to dislodge his hand. “ ** _I’ll wait for you,_** ” I promised quietly.

The Soldier stared at me for a second longer and then he was gone, slipping out the back door like a phantom. I struggled with the urge to track his progress using my other senses before I ruthlessly yanked my powers back to a tight sphere around the house so I didn’t need to focus as much. This was pathetic. _I_ was pathetic and I had no business mourning his absence when I should be preparing for the arrival of a hostile force. I left our hot chocolate in the pan, turning the heat down so it wouldn’t overcook but also could stay warm. As I continued idly stirring it, I silently berated myself.

Honestly this was ridiculous. I wasn’t some doe-eyed, silk-handed princess who needed a muscle-bound knight in shining armor to feel safe. I slayed my own demons, dammit. And had for two centuries! Huffing at myself, I tightened my grip as I attempted to push past my moment of weakness. Between my unforgiving grip and the weakness caused by my earlier etching, the poor thing contorted beyond salvaging with an ear-piercing squeak. I swore vehemently and barely managed to check my strength as I tossed it into the sink.

To hell with being reasonable. I wanted to punch something or better yet, _someone_ , in the mouth.

Fishing out another spoon, I carefully tracked the hostiles’ progress with my senses as I looked after the hot chocolate. The ancient overhead door in the garage announced their entrance, rusted metal squealing painfully as the door raised and then lowered at a snail’s pace. The door connecting the garage to the house opened into a small washroom that spilled into the side of the kitchen opposite our nook. It left me with no cover and limited options for strategic withdrawals. Sure the hallway led the half bath the Soldier had used to patch me up and a few other rooms but every window was boarded up tightly enough it would take precious time to bust through. Not to mention the amount of noise the boards’ protesting would raise. Besides, there was something about being run out of my own territory that set my teeth on edge.

Finally the engine’s roar died. Voices tumbled over the top of heavy footfalls and the slamming of multiple car doors. Obviously it was a continuation of a longer argument, judging by the heated tones and raised volume. Someone, potentially from the deep American South, wasn’t having a good day.

“—don’t give two shits what that asshole said, she was with the group that took out Delta Squad. Bitch’s gonna get what’s coming to her.”

Apparently the Southern Bell was a big fan of mine. I rolled my eyes before focusing back on the stove. Great. Like I needed something else to deal with right now.

“Rumlow was clear in the briefing.” There was something foreign in this man’s voice. Not necessarily the accent but the careful way he enunciated each word. As if he had to think carefully about them, syllable by syllable. “No one touches her. Pierce wants—”

Southern Bell didn’t appreciate that much. “Not like they can prove we did shit. Just blame the Asset for any damage. Fucker’s probably split her in two already. If it even remembers what to do with a cunt.”

“Will you shut up! Damn thing can probably hear you.” A younger voice this time. I got a distinctly West Coast vibe from him for some reason. Maybe Santa Fe or Malibu?

“Who cares?”

“I do! You heard Rumlow earlier. It’s been breaking programing all week. Fuck knows what could set it off.”

I couldn’t decide if Malibu was smart or a coward. Most likely an equal mixture of the two.

“I’d rather not die because you’re being an asshole and it decides you’re annoying. You heard the rumors about Syria. They say someone had the news on when New York was attacked by aliens and tried to change the channel while the Asset was watching. It went _fucking nuts_! Took the whole fucking base apart in less than an hour. No survivors. They had to piece shit together with surveillance videos after they sent in five teams to subdue it. You know how many walked back out? Three people! Three out of fifty!”

New York? Why would the invasion have upset the Soldier? I tucked that little tidbit away to discretely ask him the next time we were alone.

Apparently this compelling tale wasn’t making any headway with Southern Bell. “Y’all just chicken shits. Ain’t nothing that limp-dicked robot gonna do to us,” he sneered as they crowded through the connecting door. The faint smell of cheap food preceded them and my stomach took notice instantly. I really did need to have something with a healthy serving of protein in it soon. “Fine. Don’t come bitching to me when all you get is my sloppy seconds.”

“Hey, do you guys smell that?” A new voice joined in. “Smells like chocolate.”

He was met by a round of groans

“Seriously?!”

“Give it a rest, dumbass.”

“Why the hell would there be chocolate?”

“You and that damn nose. Swear you always sniffing out some weird bullshit.”

Whatever other complaints died as the tac team stumbled to a halt at the far end of the kitchen, eyes bugging out as they noticed me standing calmly in front of the stove. My shoulder remained pointed at them as I stirred the hot chocolate. Obviously they weren’t expecting me to be completely relaxed and cooking after spending the day at the Soldier’s mercy. I wish I could’ve have gotten a better look at their faces as they processed the scene but that would have meant blatantly observing them and I didn’t want to give the impression they were worth an ounce of my attention. Power plays were important when dealing with top predators. Or at least dumbasses who were used to being treated like top predators. Given the alarming hostility currently being directed at me, I would be better served to prove my strength before they regained their footing rather than throwing myself on their mercy. It wasn’t like they had any to spare.

“What the fuck?”

Southern Bell had a disappointingly small vocabulary.

I eventually deigned to glance over at the men, carefully noting the impressive array of weapons strapped to every inch of their bodies before I turned away dismissively. If it came to a fight, I could always arm myself with the guns I stripped from my first victims. There was plenty of firepower to be had. Not to mention at least four paper sacks stuffed full of hot fast food sandwiches of varying kinds. My stomach grumbled loudly at the unfairness.

“Afternoon, gentlemen.” I kept my voice neutral, nether demanding nor particularly interested in their response as I addressed them. “Plates are in the cupboard closest to you. Silverware is in the drawer beneath it. Feel free to take a bottle of water from the refrigerator if you’re thirsty.”

“Seriously. What the fuck, man.” That was Malibu. “Is she for real?”

“Don’t mistake me,” I drawled mockingly. I finally gave up on keeping the pan on the stove and carefully began to pour the chocolate into our mugs. Hopefully the Soldier would return in time to drink it while it was still warm. With any luck I wouldn’t be cleaning up too much blood when he did. “I’m not here to babysit you. If you use something, you’re responsible for cleaning it. Just because you’re mercs doesn’t mean you get to be slobs.”

My mild reprimand seemed to snap them out of whatever stupor my current activities had knocked them into.

“Watch your mouth, bitch,” snarled Southern Bell, anger flaring sharply as the first whistle cut through my mind. The warning was entirely unnecessary since the man was opening glaring at me.

My gaze flickered subtly towards the group as I finished measuring out the hot chocolate between the two mugs. I made sure to turn the burner off as I set the pan back down. It was no surprise that Southern Bell was a bonafide ginger, his naturally pale complexion splotchy red with his rising temper. He was powerfully built, just like the rest of them. Their clothes were baggy, nondescript, and dark enough to hide blood spray from the casual observer. No visible body armor. Which didn’t mean anything really. Their clothes were large enough to adequately hide a ballistics vest or something similar while allowing them to blend in with most urban crowds. It wouldn’t be enough to save them if I decided they made convenient targets for my pent up frustrations. Not that busting their faces would be as satisfying as grinding Pierce into pulp. Still, I would enjoy avenging the coarse words directed toward the Soldier.

“You know they say disproportionate aggression is a common way to cover up insecurities,” I observed idly, amused by the men’s slack-jawed response. It would be interesting which way the bear snapped when I poked it. “It would make sense why you seem so eager to target an unwilling partner to release your sexual frustrations. Maybe you should talk to a professional if you’re feeling…inadequate…in certain areas of your life.”

The warning shrieked louder as Ginger Bell dropped his bag of fast food on the counter and stalked across the room. I stood my ground, watching his frankly insulting amount of telegraph as he wound up his arm threateningly. Had I been a child I still could have dodged it. The backhand to my cheek wasn’t particularly imaginative nor debilitating. I’d done more damage to myself by running headlong into walls on accident. Still, I felt the skin on my bottom lip split against the sharp edge of my teeth, fire racing over my cheek as I let my neck muscles go pliant. It would take a lot more power out of his swing.

Deep in my core, Apohen stirred faintly, her presence awakening the customary itch beneath my choker. Of course she decided to intrude now.

_Little One…_ she hissed irritably.

_Calm down. It’s all part of the plan._

_Your plan is to let small, stupid men hit you?_

Her tone suggested this was about as intelligent as sticking my hand in a sunning crocodile’s mouth. I personally felt she was being more charitable than the idea deserved. It was still the best one I had at the moment.

_It’s a means to an end._

_I find it very discouraging how many bruises you manage to collect before you reach your desired ends._

If I could have flipped her off I would have. However, flying the bird at myself in a room full of agitated mercenaries probably wasn’t the best idea. _Shut up. You’re distracting me,_ I groused as I shoved her back to her corner.

_Little fool._

I couldn’t think of an appropriate response to that as Ginger Bell’s hand closed over my throat. Old bat was more right than I intended to admit to her.

Ever.

My would-be assaulter’s new leverage made it child’s play to bend me backwards across the counter, his hips smashing into mine so I couldn’t bring my legs up in any sort of coordinated defense. The sharp edge digging into my spine was more annoying than anything right now. I knew that could change to panic at any second should the scenario trigger me. Which would probably end up being more of a when rather than if due to certain parts of his anatomy taking an avid interest in my vulnerable position. Maybe I’d steal a boot knife and make sure he couldn’t breed. That could be my good deed for the day.

“What? Nothing smart to say to that, bitch?”

I spat an impressively sized glob of saliva and blood into his eye as I tightened my grip on the forgotten handle still in my hand. The one attached to a mostly empty pan fresh from the hot stove.

He swore and raised his dominant hand back into the air. My mind shrieked redundantly with the threat.

“Careful,” I warned him as my best psycho smile stretched across my face. “Only the first hit is free.”

“Stupid cunt! Ain’t nobody gonna want you by the time I’m through with you!”

Before I could appropriately retaliate, the hand pinning me ripped free and its owner was unceremoniously slammed into the floor hard enough to crack something. Probably the old linoleum flooring, if the plastic-sounding _snap_ was anything to go by. I blinked momentarily at the empty air above me.

Well…wasn’t part of the plan.

Forcing myself upright, I spotted the reason for my attacker’s sudden disappearance and couldn’t help the way my heart stuttered softly. The Soldier was kneeling over the dazed ginger, unforgiving grip pretzeling the other man’s arms behind his back just short of bone-splintering, permanent damage. The enhanced man’s lips were pulled back in a feral snarl and violence emanated from ever inch of his tense frame. It made him almost loom over the tac-team even though he was crouched at my feet. Equal parts terror and shock held the mercenaries at bay for the moment.

He’d come back. The Soldier had actually come back for me.

Something in me loosened and I slumped back against the counter. I’d never understood better what the Grinch’s heart felt on Christmas morning in my life. It felt like mine had swollen to the point my lungs were being crushed against my ribs. Apparently breathing would have to wait until my fondness settled back down.

Steel blue eyes flickered uncertainly over my face before they focused on the blood trickling down my chin. Icy murder frosted over his concern as he turned his attention back to the man quickly realizing he was at the mercy of the most dangerous person in the room. Fear, bitterly rank and mixing with faint urine, flooded the room as all the mercenaries came to the same conclusion. Apparently some of them didn’t have the control over their bowels they probably should have to be a part of this business. Which meant their emotions would likely rule their actions now that the Soldier had backed them into a corner.

I was already moving by the time I noticed their hands twitching towards their sidearms. The Soldier barely glanced at me as I slipped his silver pistol from its holster on his right thigh. The blazing hot pan still clutched in my other hand rocketed past the heads of the mercenaries in front as I focused on the only other weapon to clear its holster. It was second nature to line the sights along my borrowed barrel up properly and ease my finger back against the trigger, eyes straining to stay open as the gun barked loudly in my hands. The kick was stronger than I originally expected but there was no way I’d miss at this distance. The sharp yelp matched Malibu’s voice as his gun spun wildly across the room. The black tactical bag in his other hand dropped to the floor with a heavy _clunk_ as he cradled the hand that had been holding his pistol until a second ago. It was almost painfully cliche that his hair was longer than any of the other mercs’. Though not nearly as long as the Soldier’s. Wide, terrified eyes jumped towards the man on his right wearing a knit cap. The same man all the other mercenaries were trying to subtly glance at. Well, that at least answered one question about who was running this show.

Silence echoed strangely around the room as I lined the muzzle up with the little furrow between Knit Cap’s bushy eyebrows. It took more effort than I expected to purge the Russian from my voice. I wouldn’t have cared except I refused to give them an excuse to misunderstand and try to use that advantage against my companion. “The only reason any of you are still alive is the fact that your deaths make the Soldier’s life more difficult than mine is with you breathing. Understand?”

Knit Cap swallowed heavily. I could feel a familiar icy gaze staring at me in blank confusion.

“It’s a very simple, yet delicate situation,” I continued, allowing my gaze to flicker between all of the standing mercs to make sure I had their undivided attention. “The first person who tips that balance will have a bullet parked in his cerebellum. No questions asked. No second chances given. Got it?”

Judging by the crowd of sickly pale faces, I figured I’d made myself quite clear.

“Goddamn cunt. When I get out of this, you’re doing to fucking beg for death!”

Well, except to the idiot on the floor. Some people just refused to take a hint.

Before I could open my mouth to point out that threatening me with his head beneath the Soldier’s knee and his arms twisting towards the ceiling like a contortionist’s probably wasn’t his brightest idea, my champion shifted his grip minutely. Instantly Ginger sobbed in agony, wriggling like a worm on a hook as the Soldier leaned closer. His voice, for all it was the single most terrifying thing I’d ever heard, was deceptively soft.

“ ** _You are in violation of mission parameters. Continued interference will result in termination. Verbal confirmation of your understanding is required_**.”

I couldn’t help blinking in surprise. I’d never heard the Solder say so many words in a row. It must have been part of his programming or whatever the mercenaries called his abuse earlier. My heart cracked all over again.

The Soldier waited exactly five seconds and then applied even more pressure to his captive’s arms. The resulting wail made my hair stand on end.

“ ** _Verbal confirmation of your understanding is required in the next twenty seconds or you will be terminated._** ”

“Hey! Okay, okay! We get it!” shouted Knit Cap, his step forward carefully aborted when I twitched the gun barrel just enough to grab his attention. “No one’s gonna touch her. Okay? Is that what you want to hear?”

The Soldier didn’t bother glancing up from the man on the floor.

“Davis, say you understand,” snapped Knit Cap. Judging by the frantic glances of the other mercenaries, their leader was the only one who spoke Russian. I’d have to keep that in mind.

Ginger Bell’s voice was muffled and uncomfortably high. “The fuck if I will! Call the sonavabitch off!”

“Davis, you have ten seconds before he breaks your goddamned arms off and shoves them up your ass! Say you understand! That’s an order!”

There was a two second pause before Ginger finally caved and sobbed broken. “I understand! I understand, dammit!”

Instantly the Soldier released the man, rising smoothly to his feet before nudging him none-too-gently towards the panicked mercenaries with his toe. They scrambled to drag the whimpering man into their center, eyes flickering between my companion and me like startled jackrabbits caught between a pair of wolves.

Which reminded me…

Now that the stench from everyone’s panic had dropped a notch or two, the tantalizing steam waifing from the paper sacks was making my mouth water. While the mercenaries were busy checking the damage done to their friend, I snuck close enough to snatch Ginger Bell’s food from the counter near them, sniffing cautiously before retreating with my prize. There were at least two, maybe three, roast beef sandwiches inside. Much better than dog-food a la can. Knit Cap opened his mouth, but after glancing past me to what was probably a magnificent example of an ‘I can annihilate you with my thumb and not break a sweat’ look, he dropped whatever protest he intended to form. A good person would have felt bad for using the Soldier without his explicit consent. I was just amused by the fact this asshole literally sweat dropped like some weird anime character.

Once I was back at the Soldier’s side, I spun the silver pistol lazily in my palm and presented it to him grip first. That got me a head-tilt but no other reaction as he holstered it safely on his thigh once more. His face still promised murder as he focused on the men, who scuttled towards the living room like cockroaches fleeing the light. I waited for them to settle as far away as possible before I relaxed enough to tip my head back and take in the Soldier’s scrutiny.

“ ** _Thank you_** ,” I whispered, smothering my wince as my wane smile pulled at the split in my lip.

Rough knuckles brushed just shy of my wound. “ ** _Maintenance required?_** ” the Soldier asked, voice butterfly soft as he crowded close.

I shook my head, letting my eyes go gentle as I tugged him over to our waiting mugs. “ ** _Nothing a little food and hot chocolate won’t fix. Which should still be warm too. You’ve got impeccable timing._** ”

The Soldier considered my diagnosis a moment longer, accepting his mug without comment as his gaze strayed back towards the tac-team every time their furious whispers grew too intense for his taste. Whenever they noticed his interest their voices instantly softened. I recognized the look from the times I’d seen it on very different faces and couldn’t help my snort as I imagined the hellfire that would have rained down on these men if my Angels had been here. I probably wouldn’t have even had a chance to intervene on their behalf should I have felt so inclined.

“ ** _It could have been much worse,_** ” I reminded him. That earned me what passed for the Soldier’s glare. “ ** _I’m not saying it was particularly enjoyable but it also wasn’t as bad as I expected. You got here in time to keep me safe. Let it go for now, okay?_** ”

His nose attempted to wrinkle even as a deep, contented rumble started somewhere in his chest at his first sip of lush chocolate. If I didn’t know any better, I would have thought he was purring.

“ ** _Your concern is sweet and I’m appropriately flattered_** ,” I assured him, unable to banish all the teasing from my voice as he hefted the abandoned tactical bag with his metal hand. “ ** _But I’d still prefer you let it go. Just until it can’t come back to bite you in the ass. Is that something you can do for me?_** ”

That sassy, not-bland look of his was back. If the Soldier had any autonomy, I wouldn’t have bet on the mercenaries making it past the next week. That thought left me with a warm, fuzzy feeling in my stomach that had nothing to do with the hot chocolate or food cradled in my arms. Though it might have something to do with the Soldier blatantly herding me towards our nook, mismatched hands surprisingly gentle as he settled me at the far end of his bench. Tucked into the corner and blatantly guarded. I took his insistence with good humor, sitting crookedly against the wall so I didn’t have to twist my neck to continue facing him. And if it allowed me to keep an eye on the men huddled together in the other room, all the better.

The Soldier was not fooled by my innocent look as I began wolfing down the sandwiches without any of the elegant manners my old teachers had spent decades nagging about. Though he let my watch stand without challenge. Instead he kept himself busy with a startling array of weapons he pulled from the tactical bag on the floor beside him, field stripping them with graceful efficiency and inspecting every inch before reassembling them in a matter of seconds between sips from his mug. I couldn’t help the steady progress my eyebrows made up my forehead. I’d seen entire squadrons less prepared when going into battle. For once I was acutely grateful for the long decades I’d spent surrounded by war. Most of the weapons were at least partially familiar to me and it didn’t take more than a little critical thinking to figure out the ones I hadn’t see yet.

As the weapons grew more complicated, I spent less time watching the mercenaries and more memorizing the way the Soldier’s hands danced across deadly metal bits. It was surprisingly relaxing and I couldn’t help falling into his rhythm. The first time I handed him the next part he needed, it earned me a twitch and a head-tilt. The next time his lips pressed together tightly and he began reassembling two weapons at once. It became a game after that, trying to guess which part for which weapon he wanted next. I was mostly successful, though I noticed occasionally he would intentionally reach for a different part that wasn’t needed quite yet just to be contrary. His teasing had me smothering snickers before long and from the other room I could see the mercenaries staring at us as if my laughter had short circuited their brains.

“ ** _I think we broke them_** ,” I stage-whispered to the Soldier.

He rumbled agreeably before making a show of gulping hot chocolate from his mug and holding out his hand for the sub-machine gun grip I was currently holding. I was fairly certain it was called a Skorpion but I wouldn’t have bet my life on what version. Furious whispers broke out in the other room once more. I grinned wickedly and returned to our game. Our companionable silence was broken only by the soft clinking of his metal hand against the weapons and slurping gulps of chocolate. Eventually every weapon passed his thorough inspection and the Soldier stood so he could more comfortably gear up for battle. A shocking number of specially designed sheathes and holsters were meticulously added to the ones already strapped to various locations around his body. Each was intimidating black leather, stiff and constricting in a way that just barely managed to avoid interfering with his movement. I did my best not to roll my eyes at the absurdity of it, instead handing over each weapon as he systematically checked and slid them into place. It was easier than I expected to ignore who that battle was going to be against. The captain had a certain penchant for survival that skewed to the uncanny. With any luck, Steve would be able to survive long enough for me to figure out a way to disengage the Soldier.

Hopefully it wouldn’t involve letting the assassin shoot me. Explaining that to both Kali and Sharon would be a massive pain in the ass.

The Soldier stiffened, head snapping towards his bag as the hand buried inside it ran into something that clunked loudly. Some sort of chain maybe? I swallowed the last bite of my stolen bounty as I stared at him in concern. Distress was bleeding into the warm contentment he’d been putting out since we sat in the nook, vinegary sharp in a way that made my nose twitch. Something had upset him. Something he didn’t want me to see if I was reading the tension in his body right. Which meant I probably needed to prepare myself for some new hell.

“ ** _Soldier?_** ”

His expression shuttered at my tentative question. Well, more so than it already was. I waited quietly, content to let the Soldier explain as best he could in his own time. Sure enough, my patience was rewarded in less than a minute. A tangled heap of dull grey chains dropped on the tabletop before me with a _bang_. I raised an eyebrow at the abrupt sound but otherwise kept silent as I ran my fingers over the twisted coils. I glimpsed bits of leather interwoven and my heart clenched as I slowly realized what I was looking at. Maybe because I was a masochistic or more likely a little bit of an idiot, I carefully worked out the knots so the steel and leather were in neat lines as I tried to come to terms with the contraption taking shape before me. Arm and leg restraints, heavy ones, with multiple leather-wrapped cuffs on each string and a harness that most likely wrapped around my pelvis. Deeply intimidating and impossible to escape once they were hooked into place without suffering crippling damage to ligaments and joints. Even with my inhuman abilities.

The first whispers of panic slid up my spine and suddenly I couldn’t remember how I’d ever felt relaxed while sitting trapped in a corner with an assassin looming at my side.

Something of my thoughts must have slipped through to my face because the Soldier’s metal arm recalibrated loudly in the silence. I tried to stomp down my reaction, tried to smile reassuringly at him, but my wobbling lips gave me away. Icy misery was my only answer and I couldn’t deal with that. Couldn’t be what he needed until I centered myself. To do that I needed my own space. Just for a few minutes. Just long enough to breathe through the inevitable terror being vulnerable and surrounded by hostiles would drown me in.

The bathroom. I could duck in there, just for a couple of minutes. Surely I’d earned that much respite after everything I’d done the past couple days.

Apparently that was too much to ask for, according to the universe.

The Soldier and I both flinched at the shrill ringtone echoing from the living room. Knit Cap scrambled to answer it as a palpable sigh whispered through the other mercs. In contrast, my companion turned to granite, his hands freezing the silver pistol mid-cock for the briefest instant. It didn’t take a genius to guess who the call was from. Distress, threaded through with raw terror, spread so thickly in the air I could practically taste it. No one would have been able to tell by looking at him. Not even his eyes gave him away as his hands jerkily went through the motions of holstering the silver pistol and then standing at parade rest. This apparent indifference was probably his only defense against his tormentors. Predators sought weakness and if you showed none, you had a much better chance of getting out without injury. For this to be his instinctive reaction to something as simple as a phone call was a hell I never would have wished on anyone.

My temper crackled to life in defense of my terrified companion, sparks catching on the brittle fear floating through my blood and suddenly fury was the only wildfire beneath my skin. I banked that heat carefully, drawing strength from it as I stood to lay a reassuring hand on the Soldier’s flesh arm. His mouth pinched sharply even as his head tipped to look at me.

No matter what, he wouldn’t be facing this alone. Not anymore.

As I mentally prepared myself for battle, I let one thought above all others soothe the beast within: Pierce would rue the day he caught my eye.

**Author's Note:**

> And there we have it! I'm excited to see what everyone thinks! Also if you have any advice for a new Archive User, I'd been more than grateful to have you share it.
> 
> Until next time!


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